


Fucked Up Sansby Week 3: Electric Boogalee

by talkingsoup



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Asexuality Spectrum, Awkwardness, Complicated Relationships, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Explicit Sexual Content, Grillby's Family - Freeform, Internalized Acephobia, M/M, Minor Injuries, Miscommunication, Physical Abuse, Rough Sex, Sans Is Ace, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Triggers, Verbal Abuse, fucked up sansby week, sansby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingsoup/pseuds/talkingsoup
Summary: Semi-connected drabbles about the suffer orb and the fire man, for the third year running.With respect to Withtheworms and Illegalsekrit.
Relationships: Grillby/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 133
Kudos: 120





	1. Prompt 1: Private (Advised Discretion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby needs to talk to Sans in private.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** none
> 
> Chapter is SFW

Grillby had been cold and aloof all night, which usually meant that Sans had fucked up somehow. He’d spent a good portion of the last few hours trying to figure out what he must have done. He hadn’t gotten publicly drunk in awhile, so it couldn’t be that. Sans had been in a good enough mood lately that sex had been a fairly regular thing, so Grillby probably wasn’t pent up and frustrated. Sans had been telling all the usual jokes and ordering all his usual food and drinks. Nothing out of the ordinary. He didn’t think he had forgotten anything important. He hadn’t paid his tab in a few days, but Grillby didn’t usually start to care until it got into the weeks.

Much as Sans wracked his mind, he just couldn’t think of what Grillby might be mad at him for. He nursed his drinks slowly and didn’t let even a trace of worry into his expression. They’d have time to talk after close. Then Sans could find out what he’d done wrong and apologize, and then they could move on. Maybe move on upstairs, if his mood didn’t fail him. That would at least make Grillby happier.

The night had been mellow, more low-key than was typical for a weekend night at Grillby’s. Snowdin had been colder than normal this past week or so, and that had everyone in town subdued. Sans coasted through it, watching the other regulars leave one by one. His soul tensed a little further with each one. When it was down to just Dizzy, passed out at her table like always, Sans polished off his own drink and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. Grillby drifted over to him to take his glass. Sans took the opportunity to give him a wry, hesitant grin.

“Heya,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Uh, you--”

“Not yet,” Grillby said flatly. He jerked his chin toward Dizzy’s table. “Wait until she’s gone.”

Sans blinked in surprise and nodded. At this point of the night, Dizzy was too fargone to overhear much of anything. Whatever this was, it had to be important. And private.

It wasn’t too much longer before Dizzy’s sister arrived to haul her home, like clockwork. Grillby was in the back cleaning the kitchen when the door slammed shut. Sans tapped his thumbs together, waiting. He wondered briefly whether he should tell Grillby that Dizzy was gone, but thought against it. Might be better not to rush this if Grillby was going to blow up at him.

Not that…Grillby ever  _ really _ blew up at him. He got angry, sure, but he was always careful to keep his temper in check. He probably had to. He talked a lot about how being a fire elemental meant needing to be in control of himself at all times. The worst that would happen would be that Grillby yelled at him a little and banned him from the restaurant for the rest of the timelines. It would be crushing, of course, but not--explosive.

Maybe he was blowing this all out of proportion. Maybe it was just something small that he could easily apologize for.

Grillby reemerged from the kitchen only a few minutes later, wearing thick rubber gloves so that he could start cleaning tables. He paused when he saw that Dizzy was gone. Then, with a very brief glance at Sans, he walked over to the front door and locked it. Sans watched him carefully.

“So. Uh.” Sans wasn’t much of a believer in the anticipation being worse than the thing itself, and nor was he a believer in getting a bad thing over with. Much better to just avoid the bad thing entirely. But he’d been stewing all night at this point, and he’d need to let Papyrus know pretty soon whether he’d be spending the night out or not.

“Uh, maybe this is a, ‘you should already know what you did wrong’ kinda thing but, heh,” he said, rubbing the back of his skull. “I been drawing a blank here. So…you’re mad at me, right? What did I do?”

Grillby had been heading to the nearest table to start cleaning, but he stopped and frowned at Sans when he spoke up.

“Oh,” he said after a moment. “No, I’m not mad at you. Well…not really.”

“Oh,” Sans said, practically deflating. “Uh. Well, shit, okay. That’s, uh, a relief…”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind tonight. Preoccupied,” Grillby said, somewhat briskly as he went back to cleaning. “I’m sorry if that came across as anger.”

“No, uh.” Now Sans just felt like an idiot, but he tried not to let any of that into his voice or expression. “It’s fine.”

“And I didn’t want anyone to see us talking.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t think you’ve been as discreet as you could be,” Grilly said, voice a little sharper. “Doggo asked me an unsettling question yesterday.”

“I. Uh. I mean, I don’t go around just--I don’t kiss and tell or anything.” Sans could feel his face starting to warm. “We’ve talked about this, right? I figure some of the regulars suspect, at least. I don’t think Papyrus knows. I’m plenty discreet.”

“But you don’t care who knows about us,” Grillby said dryly. “At least not the same way that I do.”

“Look, I’m a private person too,” Sans said, frowning a little. “I don’t go around just blabbering about it all. I just…in the grand scheme of things, people knowing about us isn’t that big a deal to me. But I get it’s a bigger deal to you, and I can respect that. I thought I  _ had _ been respecting it, but--I get it, I’ll do better. Be more careful and all.”

Grillby considered him from across the restaurant for a long moment and sighed.

“I wish it didn’t have to be a big deal,” he said. “But it is. And right now, more than usual.”

“How come?”

Grillby folded his arms, a few curls of flames rising from his neck and shoulders.

“My sister and niece are coming to visit this weekend.”

“Oh.” Sans went rapidly from delight over the idea of having Fuku around to instant dread and understanding.  _ “Ohhhhhh.” _

“Exactly.”

They’d talked about Grillby’s sister plenty of times before. Fuku was a great kid, but to hear Grillby tell it, her mother was an absolute nightmare. Sans wasn’t naive enough to think that all siblings must get along as well as he and Papyrus did, but there was some real bitterness there that Grillby had never fully gone into. And Sans never had any intention of prying. From what he understood, Plasma was just a very overbearing monster, with a very different personality and very different values from Grillby.

“Shit,” Sans said, shaking his head a little. “Just like a family reunion kind of thing?”

“Fuku wants a job.”

“Oh. Here? That’s--really cool, though.” Sans let himself grin tentatively. “Right? You’d have some help around here, you’d get to see her more…plus Sasha will probably tag along, and those two are a blast.”

“Yes,” Grillby said. “But Plasma of course hates the idea.”

“Well, Fuku’s a teenager. She can do what she wants. Doesn’t need her mom’s approval.”

“Fuku doesn’t want to create a rift between her and her mother. And neither do I. So. The compromise is that Plasma will come here and inspect the restaurant to see if it is up to her…exacting standards for her precious daughter. They’ll spend the weekend in Snowdin.”

“Well, shit,” Sans said, leaning back against the edge of the bar. “No wonder you’re stressed.”

Grillby had gone back to cleaning tables, but now he stopped again, long enough to catch and hold Sans’s gaze.

“She can’t know about us.”

“Right,” Sans said, wincing. “Sleeping with a customer. Bad look.”

“It’s--worse than that,” Grillby said, and Sans didn’t think he had ever heard him sound so grim. “She’s a… ‘conservationist.’”

Sans felt his soul contract a little. That explained everything. It was the more polite term to refer to monsters who felt that one of the primary goals of monsterkind should be preserving certain species. Most monster species could procreate just fine with members of other species, having children who belonged to either or, more rarely, were hybrids. But some species couldn’t. Something about minute differences in monster souls--Sans had practically failed monster biology, so he had no idea. Elemental monsters were in the latter group. They ended up with entirely hybrid children, unless their partner was the same type of elemental. Pure elementals were fairly rare for that reason.

The vast majority of monsters didn’t really care; the continuation of monsterkind as a whole was more important. People with such hang-ups about preserving species purity were considered old-fashioned, restrictive and obsessed with tradition. It had obviously been not as big a deal before the Underground, when monsters had been more widespread and much more varied. When the barrier had gone up and certain species had started to die off entirely, the desire to preserve species had become desperate. It must have felt like the end of the world, Sans figured. Whole species destroyed, others slowly dying out. Cultures and customs, gone.

He understood it on some level. But that didn’t change the fact that conservationists were generally rigid, bitter people who didn’t look kindly on inter-species relationships, who put preserving their specific species above everything else. Sans knew full well. His parents had been like that.

He had never told Grillby, of course. There was no way he knew.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Yes,” Grillby agreed.

“So. Okay. She can’t know. Got it.”

“And you need to be more careful, just in general,” Grillby said, voice sharp again. “I won’t have a few casual flings with you compromise a relationship with my niece. Or my reputation on the whole. Understand?”

A few casual flings. That stung. It hadn’t been a few, and some of them hadn’t been casual. But that was another thing Grillby couldn’t have known. And if Sans ever caught himself longing for the timelines where all of this actually worked out, that was no one’s business.

“I--okay, I get it.” Sans shifted uncomfortably. He looked away and grinned wryly at a wall. “Heh, starting to sound almost like you’re embarrassed by me.”

“...I’ll be talking to the other regulars as well. Asking them to be on their best behavior when Plasma’s here.”

Sans still wouldn’t look at him. “You know, I could just stay outta here entirely. Til she’s gone, I mean. Probably be easier. You wouldn’t hafta worry about me screwing something up.”

“That--seems extreme.” Grillby paused. “Are you trying to guilt me?”

“No,” Sans said, honestly.

“Good. No, you don’t have to stay away. Just  _ behave _ yourself.”

Sans studied an interesting stain on the floor. “You didn’t deny it a minute ago, you know.”

“What?”

“That you’re embarrassed by me.”

“We’re not doing this right now, Sans,” Grillby said, turning away to clean a table more vigorously. “It’s complicated.”

Sans looked up and put on his best grin, slouching back against the edge of the bar again.

“Well, anyway. I’ll be more careful, and I won’t do anything to catch Plasma’s attention. You won’t hear a peep from me while she’s here.”

“Good.”

“So, uh.” Sans let his grin become more lopsided. “You wanna do anything tonight, or nah? Some stress relief might be good for you. Could just fool around, or--somethin’ else.”

Grillby stopped where he was, midway through wiping down a table. He stared at the table’s surface for several long seconds before he heaved a sigh and continued wiping.

“Not tonight,” he said, and Sans wasn’t sure if he was imagining the regret in Grillby’s voice. “I need to start putting some things together. Maybe…maybe tomorrow, if you’re still up for it.”

Sans’s grin became a bit more genuine. “Here’s hoping. Been in a good mood lately.”

Grillby’s back was to him, but Sans heard a little smile in his voice when he answered. “I’m glad to hear it. Maybe tomorrow, then.”

Sans watched his back for a little while in silence, watching the illusion of muscles beneath his clothes, the flicker of his flames. This--this was fine. Grillby wasn’t mad at him, that was the main thing. He had a chance to connect with his niece. Hell, maybe this was even a chance to patch things up with his sister. Siblings shouldn’t hate each other like that, after all. Sans just had to be more low-key for a few days, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t already the lowest of low-key. The universe permitting, he’d have a good few nights with Grillby, then probably go back into sexual hibernation for awhile, which really wasn’t a big deal for him. And he could always just avoid the restaurant over the weekend. He wasn’t sure he wanted to meet Plasma at all, anyway.

It was fine.

Sans slid to his feet.

“Better get going,” he said, yawning quietly. “Before Paps calls.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Sans,” Grillby said, tone lighter now. “Actually, just a moment.”

Sans stopped halfway to the door. Grillby set down his cleaning supplies and crossed the room to him. He took hold of the front of Sans’s hoodie and pulled him into a rough, deep kiss. Sans made a soft little sound at the taste of fire in his mouth. Grillby let go and pulled away before Sans could truly melt into it, leaving Sans to blink up at him in surprise.

“Tomorrow,” Grillby said again, and he turned away.


	2. Prompt 2: Needy (all of these words i hear in my mind)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, Sans is the one who's a bit pent up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** depiction of triggering, self-hate, explicit sexual content. Chapter is NSFW

Tomorrow ended up not happening. Nor did the next day. Sans was on his best behavior, talking to the other regulars more and barely saying a word to Grillby, pretending to leave at a reasonable hour and then teleporting back into the restaurant after close. But Grillby kept getting caught up with other things. Extra cleaning, repairs he’d been putting off, straightening up his apartment above the restaurant, reorganizing the entire kitchen. For three days, Sans popped into the empty restaurant, only to have Grillby send him away, telling him he was too busy or too worn out.

It was…frustrating. A little. He figured this was probably as close as he could ever get to real sexual frustration. He could go months or years without sex, but this was different. For one thing, Grillby was the first person in over a decade that he’d actually had any interest in. For another, he never truly got used to the sensation of  _ wanting  _ sex. It was just a strange feeling, to be ready and willing for it only to be shut down. Usually he was the one shutting other people down. For better or worse.

So when they finally made it into Grillby’s bed three days later, Sans realized that he was actually pent up, maybe for the first time in his life.

“Come on,” he urged as he pulled at Grillby’s clothes. “Yeah, come on, Grillb.”

Grillby kissed at his neck while he worked himself out of his pants, letting flames trail between Sans’s cervical vertebrae. Sans tilted his head to give Grillby better access, a breath shuddering out of him. Grillby ground down against his pelvis and Sans whined. His magic was already formed and had been for several minutes already. He could feel it throbbing in time with his soul.

Grillby finally got his pants off and tossed them aside. His fingers wrapped around the hem of Sans’s shorts and he stopped.

“You’re alright with this?”

Sans had to keep himself from groaning in exasperation. He always asked. Always made sure. But god, right now Sans just didn’t want to wait. He wanted Grillby to just take what he wanted.

“Yeah,” he managed to say. “Yeah, fuck, I need it.”

Grillby smirked in a way that made Sans’s magic throb harder.

“Awfully eager,” he said, and he pulled Sans’s shorts down. He dropped them over the edge of the bed, smile broadening as he looked over Sans’s slick pussy.

“Ah,” he said in a tone that was both amused and aroused. “More than I thought.”

“F-Fuck.” Sans resisted the urge to throw an arm over his eyesockets. He couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up his face. “Don’t--don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Grillby said in the same tone. Sams felt two fiery fingers spread him open. “So wet. Maybe you really do need this.”

Sans twitched beneath him, spine arching as he tried to pull Grillby’s fingers inward.

“Please,” he gasped, spreading his legs wider. “Please, fuck me.”

Grillby growled quietly and withdrew his fingers. He leaned back enough to pull off his boxers, practically tearing out of them. Then he moved to brace himself above Sans, taking his cock in hand. Sans was already sweating from the heat and from anticipation.

“Yes,” Sans ground out as Grillby began to push himself slowly inside, heat filling him. “Fuck,  _ Grillby--” _

The words dissolved into a warbling little cry as Grillby buried himself in Sans. He shuddered to a stop, perched above Sans, drawing a shaky breath as he composed himself.

“You can move.” Sans squirmed beneath him, trying to urge Grillby along. “I-I’m good.”

“Yes, you are,” Grillby said, and he started thrusting, pace slow and deep and careful. Sans rocked in time with him, head tilting back, breath quickening.

“H-Harder.”

“Yes?”

“Please…” Sans let go of Grillby’s shoulders and let his arms fall above his head. “Hold me down.”

Grillby caught Sans’s eyelights for just a moment before he obliged, hands wrapping tightly around Sans’s wrists as he pushed them even higher. He thrust harder and deeper, making Sans give a soft cry with each rough movement.

“Oh f-fuck, yeah, l-like that-- _ ah-- _ perfect.”

He flexed his fingers, testing Grillby’s grip. Grillby responded by holding even tighter and leaning more weight on Sans, pinning him to the bed completely. Sans felt his soul give a little pulse of excitement as he realized he was completely at Grillby’s mercy. He made a breathless sound and felt Grillby tense a little.

“Too much?” Grillby asked, murmuring right next to Sans’s skull.

“N-No, it’s good,” Sans gasped. The vulnerability was usually too much for him, because Grillby liked to use the opportunity to be sweet and tender. Not this time, if he could help it.

“You can be rough.” Sans trembled, wondering if Grillby would hold his wrists tight enough to leave bruises. Probably not. He was always too careful.

“I want it,” he said, managing a shaky grin. “Be merciless."

Grillby’s flames rippled, his heat intensifying. He groaned and bore down harder on Sans, and Sans whimpered a little at the sudden intensity. He could hear the headboard starting to tap against the wall. With every thrust he felt his magic stretch, the pressure overwhelming but not quite painful. He’d be aching after this, he knew.

Grillby shifted his position just slightly, angling to drag harder against Sans’s clit. Sans let out a wrecked little mewl and tried to tug a hand free so he could cover his mouth. Grillby didn’t let him, still keeping both of his wrists pinned.

“You like that?” Grillby rumbled against Sans’s neck, nipping along his jawline.

“Fuck,  _ Grillby, please… _ a-ah, please,  _ don’t stop…” _

He felt Grillby grin against him. Grillby lifted his head enough so that he could look Sans full in the face.

“Such a needy little thing,” Grillby purred. “So demanding.”

Sans was so lost in sensation that it was hard to even understand what Grillby had said. It took him a moment for his mind to catch up. Needy. For some reason the word stuck in him, a cold point like a tiny chip of ice. Grillby broke eye contact and buried his face against Sans’s neck, pace not slowing, as rough as Sans had told him to be.

It was hard to think. Everything felt so damn  _ good. _ But the word lingered like a physical object, slowly circling his mind and soul. He stared blearily up at the ceiling past Grillby’s shoulder, still trying to keep up with him, still whimpering and mewling with every movement.

Was he being too loud? It was hard to control once he got like this. He wasn’t good at keeping quiet unless there was a hand on his mouth. Grillby always said he liked the noises, but maybe it was too much, too noisy.

It was just dirty talk, right? Neither of them were particularly good at it, but they’d both said things like it before. Half-formed thoughts kept circling his mind, dissolving with every exquisite thrust as lights burst in his skull. Heat was building rapidly beneath his soul, and he could hear his little cries starting to get louder.

_ Needy. _ It bothered him. Why did that bother him? Why was he trying to think at all?

He tried to be quieter as he felt it rise within him but it was no use. His back arched, pulling Grillby in deeper, legs shaking as they lifted off the mattress. He came with a long, trembling shout, clamping his mouth shut too late to catch the sound. Grillby was dutiful, thrusting slower and sweeter, drawing out the orgasm. Sans tried as hard as he could to keep his mouth shut, but the last little spike of pleasure forced a shaking gasp from him. Still too loud.

Still--needy.

He collapsed beneath Grillby, breathing ragged. Grillby’s flames were starting to lose shape. The bed was still knocking against the wall. Sans pressed his face to Grillby’s shoulder, slowly coming down. His thoughts swam through mud, and some instinct in the back of his mind started trying to assess what was wrong--damage? Danger? Panic?

No, he was alright. Better than alright. Blissed out, body trembling with aftershocks. It was still too hard to think. Just--that word. Needy. Demanding. It was just dirty talk. It wasn’t like Grillby was upset. Obviously he wasn’t upset. A memory, maybe? Did it remind him of something? No…no, that didn’t seem to be it. He had never  _ let  _ himself be anything approaching needy with any of his former partners. Never demanded anything. Never even asked.

Grillby bucked suddenly, flames roaring. Sans let out another cry--still too loud--as pleasure rushed through him again. He opened his mouth, wanting to beg Grillby to come inside him.  _ Needy.  _ He couldn’t get the words out.

Grillby didn’t really need to be asked. Sans felt molten heat fill his magic and squeezed his eyesockets shut as the sensation threatened to pull him down into another orgasm. He felt himself skate close to it, then float back down. He sank against the bed, breathing hard. Grillby slowed to a stop, arms shaking as he kept himself perched above Sans.

For several moments, it was just their breathing, and Sans’s increasingly loud thoughts. Then Grillby heaved a contented sigh and let go of Sans’s wrists, wrapping his arms around Sans and holding him closed. He kissed Sans long and deep before settling on top of him.

It was all so good. All so perfect and warm and satisfying.

_ Needy. Demanding. Clingy. Pathetic. _

_ Parasite. _

Grillby didn’t think that. He didn’t think any of that. It was just a word. Just a stupid word. He hadn’t meant it like that. It was dirty talk, that was all. Even though Grillby knew how long it had taken to get Sans to ask for anything at all. Even though Sans still almost always let Grillby take control. Even though he knew Sans never really  _ needed _ sex, just--liked it now and then. So it wasn’t about the sex at all, right? It was about the closeness, the heat, the…the  _ need _ to be wanted.

He was taking this way too seriously. Sex always left him vulnerable, emotional. It was just a stupid word.

“Wonderful,” Grillby said, kissing him again.

“Yeah.”

He should apologize. Just in case. Just in case Grillby actually was annoyed. Only then Grillby would tell him, yes, he  _ was _ a pathetic, needy little shit. Or he’d worry that he’d done something wrong. Or he’d tell Sans to stop apologizing.

Grillby sighed again, as content as a flame with fresh wood. He maneuvered himself backward, pulling out of Sans and settling down beside him instead. Sans rolled to the side and dismissed his magic before he could make a mess. Any  _ more _ of a mess. God, he was being so ridiculous. This was nothing, this was just how he always got after sex, loose and loopy and scattered. Too emotional. Needy.

He let Grillby gather him against his chest. He felt a warm kiss press to his scapula.

“How are your wrists?”

“Fine,” he said, curling his fingers. His wrists were a little singed, nothing more. It would wash off. “You weren’t squeezin’ that hard.”

“I didn’t want to bruise you.”

He  _ could _ though. Sans thought about saying it. He studied the soot marks on his wrists. It wouldn’t have to be anything weird, no pain kink or anything, no actually injury--Sans couldn’t even entertain the idea, given his condition. Nothing worse than a hickey. Just…the thought of the bone being a little tender for awhile, a mark that would last longer than soot. Something he could see and think of as proof that he could be worthwhile, pleasing, normal. Wanted.

Something that someone  _ else _ might see. There was the problem. That was reckless. That was needy, wasn’t it?

“Nah, you were perfect,” he said earnestly, needing to say  _ something. _ “I love when you’re rough.”

Grillby hummed against his spine, the sound traveling down to Sans’s coccyx and up into his skull. He curled back further against Grillby’s chest, smiling faintly. It was fine. Grillby was happy. He was pleased. Sans was just caught up in it all, overthinking things like he always did.

Grillby chuckled suddenly.

“Got it out of your system, then?” he said in an amused tone. “Hope you won’t be that desperate this weekend.”

The word had been like a chip of ice growing slowly in his soul. This was like a splash of ice water to the face. He stared at the opposite wall. Every part of him that Grillby wasn’t touching felt abruptly cold. Not just needy but  _ desperate.  _ A pathetic little mess of a skeleton, demanding too much, taking too much. He thought of all the stupid,  _ whiny _ little sounds he had been making. Pathetic.  _ Pathetic.  _ Fucking pathetic.

“Sans?” 

He’d suspected that Grillby was embarrassed by him. He hadn’t wanted it to be true. But why wouldn’t Grillby be embarrassed? Sans clung to every little scrap of attention and affection, always denying how much he  _ needed _ it. And how ridiculous that had to seem, when as far as Grillby knew, this hadn’t even been going on that long. Sans must seem like the kind of person who latched onto anyone who gave him the time of day. Fucking  _ pathetic. _

Grillby nuzzled inquisitively against the back of Sans’s neck. “You went all stiff.”

Sans tried to force himself to relax.

“I.” He tried to think of something, anything that wasn’t, “Sorry.”

“What?” Grillby shifted a little behind him. “Come on, I was just teasing.”

Except he wasn’t. Obviously he wasn’t. Because obviously he couldn’t have Sans being “that desperate” this weekend. Of course he couldn’t have Sans acting like some obsessed idiot while his sister was here. Of course he couldn’t compromise a relationship with his family. Of course Sans’s existence would be an insult to his sister and an  _ embarrassment _ to everyone else. Sans had known all along that Grillby was too good for him, but he kept crawling back with every timeline, dragging Grillby into his bullshit, because he was  _ just that needy. _

Sans wound his hands together too tightly, wanting to hold onto something and dig his fingers in.

“But, nah, you don’t gotta worry,” he said, aiming for nonchalant and falling well short. “I’ll stay outta your flames this weekend. Said I would.”

“Sans, it was just a joke,” Grillby said. “You love jokes.”

“Yeah,” he said, forcing himself to grin. “S’ hilarious.”

“Why are you taking this so seriously?”

“Me? Take somethin’ seriously? Perish the thought.”

“You’re deflecting,” Grillby said, irritated now. “You always do this. If you’re upset, just say so. If I set something off, you need to  _ tell me _ so.”

“Heh, how could I be upset after an orgasm like that?”

Grillby let go and rolled over onto his back. Sans immediately shivered at the unexpected rush of cold.

“Fine,” Grillby said. “If you want to stew, I can’t exactly stop you.”

Sans curled into a ball, feeling as if the warmth was being sapped out of him. He grabbed the edge of the blankets and started to pull them up.

“Stop,” Grillby said, voice neutral again. “You can’t spend the night. They’ll be here tomorrow, and Plasma likes to be early.”

Sans rolled to the side and slid off the bed without a word. He gathered his discarded clothes and dressed himself, not looking at anything. Incredible. He’d managed to annoy him twice in the space of an hour. Why did Grillby put up with him?

Why in the hell did Grillby put up with him?

He pulled on his hoodie and finally looked up enough to shoot Grillby a smile. Grillby had turned away, facing the opposite wall.

“Seeya tomorrow,” he said, heading for the door.

Grillby didn’t answer.


	3. Prompt 3: Ungrateful (Family Ties)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans meets Grillby's sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a whole lot of headcanon stuff in here so I hope that's okay.
> 
>  **Warnings:** secondhand embarrassment, intense awkwardness, weird monster pseudo-racism, alcoholism
> 
> Chapter is SFW

Sans had debated with himself for part of the night and most of the morning as to whether to even bother going to Grillby’s today. Last night had been--weird, but not the kind of weird that he and Grillby couldn’t get over in a day or so. It was Grillby’s sister that was the problem. Sans was allergic to trouble unless he was the one causing it. It might be better to just avoid the problem entirely until next week. He could subsist on whatever they had in the house that wasn’t spaghetti, or go to the few subpar restaurants he knew of in Hotland and New Home. Or there was always the all-hotdog option.

But honestly, he wasn’t even sure that it was going to be that bad. Plasma sounded like an unpleasant person, but Sans had always been pretty good at dealing with unpleasant people. Plus it wasn’t like she was going to be at the bar the entire time. Sans could risk going there for lunch, testing the waters, and if it turned out to be too much, he just wouldn’t come back for dinner. That seemed reasonable enough.

If nothing else, he was kind of a charmer. Maybe he could win Plasma over to Grillby’s side, grease the wheels a bit. While still keeping low-key, of course. Sans wasn’t an idiot.

He still braced himself internally as he approached the restaurant for lunch, keeping his body language as carefree and casual as always. Not a big deal. Just a regular day at Grillby’s. He pushed open the door.

“Hey, everybody,” he said, grinning as he walked in.

“Hey, Sans.”

“Hi, Sansy!”

He took in the scene. All the usual regulars in their places like always; only Dogamy and Dogaressa were missing, as they were both on patrol. Sans started to head for his spot at the bar and paused half a beat.

Grillby was at the register, his flames curling with delight as he spoke to a smaller fire elemental. She was emerald green and wearing casual, loose-fitting clothes--a far cry from the prim school uniform that Sans usually saw her wearing. Fuku turned at the sound and brightened a little when she spotted Sans, giving him a small wave. He smiled and waved back. He didn’t know her well, but she and her girlfriend came by the hotdog stand now and then. Great kids.

Grillby looked up as well, just long enough to meet Sans’s eyelights and give him a curt nod. Sans felt a little pang in his soul; not from the brusque response, but a reminder of last night. In the light of day, so to speak, and with his head back on straight, Sans knew how ridiculous he’d been. He’d overreacted. Stupid to get so emotional over a few words. Grillby had every right to be annoyed. Although…maybe Grillby’s dismissiveness had affected him too. Maybe Sans should do what normal people did and actually try to explain himself, or at the very least tell him not to use the word  _ needy _ anymore. Or would that come off as needy and pathetic as well?

Still overreacting, apparently. Good thing they had an excuse to not talk much for a few days.

There was another fire elemental at the bar as well. She was taller than Grillby, flames a bright bluish-teal, outfit sharp and understated. She was sitting next to Sans’s usual spot and talking animatedly with Redbird, who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. Neither of them looked up at Sans’s greeting.

Sans didn’t pause for more than half a step, immediately turning and heading for a stool much further down the bar. It was a little off-putting, but it wasn’t like he was that attached to his normal seat, even if he did keep an emergency stash of whoopee cushions stuck to the underside. Better to avoid a potential conversation by sitting further away. Not a big deal.

He plunked down in his new seat and shot a quick look at Fisher, raising his brow ridges at him. Fisher returned the look with a forlorn one of his own, heaved a sigh and took a very long drink from his glass. Sans winced in sympathy and folded his arms on the bar, gaze moving past Fisher down to where Grillby stood. Grillby would get to him eventually. He was just a normal customer who could wait a normal amount of time for the bartender.

He was close enough to Redbird and the fire elemental who had to be Plasma to catch a few snippets of their conversation.

“I, uh, I don’t really know,” Redbird was saying, sounding deeply uncomfortable. “My moms didn’t really tell stories about those times?”

“Really? That’s a shame,” Plasma responded. Her voice was the same fiery hiss and pop as Grillby’s, but with much more of a Hotland accent. “That’s another thing a lot of monsters just don’t think about--the loss of culture. All those stories we’ll never get back.”

Redbird shrugged. “I think they just…wanted to move on, is all.”

“Understandable, I suppose. It’s just a shame that you won’t have those stories to pass onto your own children.”

“Uh…well, that won’t be a problem. I don’t really want kids, to be honest.”

“Ah. I see.”

Sans tuned them out, taking the opportunity to pointlessly check some emails on his phone. Nothing but spam and bills. He scrolled through them anyway to pass the time.

He didn’t have too long to wait. An orange glow appeared in his peripheral and he looked up to see Grillby standing before him. He gave him a neutral smile.

“Heya, Grillbz,” he said. “Just the lunch usual. Extra ketchup.”

“Of course,” Grillby said, nodding and writing it down on a notepad, though he really didn’t need to. “I’ll have it up right away.”

“Thanks.”

Grillby left. Sans saw him gesture to Fuku and Fuku brightened again, then circled around behind the bar, following her uncle into the kitchen. Seemed like Grillby was giving her the grand tour while he worked.

Sans went back to his phone, still trying not to listen in on Redbird and Plasma. He kept catching snippets, but it was more of the same--Plasma asking questions and making commentary about bird monsters while Redbird became increasingly uncomfortable. They were speeding through their meal and chugging their coffee in an effort to leave sooner. Sans would have to text them later, make sure they were alright. Redbird was about as chill as Sans was, but when they got stressed it tended to put them in a funk.

It made sense that Plasma had taken an interest in them. Bird monsters were few and far between these days. Conservationists tended to hone in on rare monsters and butt into their business. It occurred to Sans, way too late, that technically  _ he _ counted as one of those rare monsters as well. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? Stupid. Maybe it would be smart to eat quickly and leave before Plasma took notice of him. He was good at being inconspicuous, and he was already being quieter than usual. Usually he’d be chatting and joking with the other patrons at this point.

Grillby eventually returned with his order. Sans ate in total silence. Redbird left once their own meal was done, and Sans took that as his cue to hurry up. He had Grillby pack the rest of his food up in a doggy bag and left without any goodbyes. Plasma seemed to be taking that time to inspect the restaurant proper and didn’t try to approach him.

So, that was a success in Sans’s book. Plasma couldn’t possibly spend the literal entire weekend at the bar, so it would probably be safe to go back tonight for dinner. Maybe there’d be a chance for him and Grillby to say more than two words to each other then. He texted Redbird while he was on sentry duty, and they replied that they were fine, but probably were going to avoid Grillby’s for the rest of the weekend.

Sans thought about texting Grillby as well, but didn't.

Once his sentry shift was done, Sans headed back to the restaurant for dinner. As he was approaching, though, he saw Dizzy Bunny stumbling out the front door. Sans stared at her in mild shock. She hadn’t left before close in the entire time that Sans had known her.

“Whoa,” he said when she drew level with him. She clearly wasn’t even as drunk as always, given the fact that she was able to walk at all. “You alright?”

“Heya, Sansy,” she said, patting him on the shoulder and giving him a somewhat bemused smile. “I g-g-got cut off! Waaaaay earlier than usual! Grillby’s been soooo weird t-today.”

“Wow.” Sans shook his head. “You okay to get home? I could walk ya.”

She practically draped herself around his shoulders. “Awww, Sansy! Th-That’s so nice! But I’m okay, I’m good. I know where I live.”

“Okay…if you’re sure. I’m surprised, usually you pull out the flask when he cuts you off.”

She made a face. “He said no, no outside lllliquor. Like I said, he’s bein’ so weeeeird. Oh well, I can drink more at home.”

“Well, uh, try to pace yourself at least, yeah? Don’t overdo it.”

She waved a dismissive hand and let go of him, staggering back.

“Thanks, Sansy! S-See ya tomorrow!”

He watched her go to make sure she wasn’t going to faceplant in a snowbank, dread starting to fill his soul. It was weird to see that Grillby’s current stress and intensity was affecting other people and not just Sans. It wasn’t the end of the world or anything, but seeing Dizzy leave so early really threw off the usual routine.

Still, he entered the restaurant all the same, giving his usual greetings. To his disappointment, he saw that Plasma was indeed here again. She was at Sans’s spot this time, having an intense conversation with Grillby, who was polishing a glass. The flames around his head were flickering in agitation, while Plasma’s flames were calm and wavy. Aside from that and Redbird and Dizzy’s absence, the vibe in the restaurant seemed pretty normal. Fisher looked morose, but he was always morose without his best friend.

Sans sighed to himself and took a seat further down the bar again. Grillby didn’t even acknowledge his presence this time. He and Plasma were speaking quietly, but Sans overheard a bit of their conversation before he managed to tune them out.

“And I don’t know how anyone could put up with those dogs,” Plasma said disdainfully. “They’re being way too rowdy. Can’t you tell them to keep it down?”

“They’re off-duty. They have a right to enjoy themselves,” Grillby answered, voice even. “It’s not like she’d be working nights. I’d keep her on mornings and afternoons. I wouldn’t expect her to handle the night crowd until she’s much older.”

“She might be out of stripes, but she’s still a child. And she has her studies to focus on. Honestly, this whole thing is just so frivolous. But I just can’t talk her out of it. I suppose I can’t undo the bad example you’ve  _ already _ set for her.”

There wasn’t enough yikes in the world. Sans focused on his phone again, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. He’d just keep his head down and his mouth shut, like he’d done at lunch.

That tactic lasted about a half an hour. Sans was partway into his dinner when he felt eyes on him, followed by a sudden and unannounced Check. He looked up, startled by the brazenness--Checking a total stranger out of the blue was generally considered rude. Plasma was watching him intently from down the bar. He thought she might be frowning, but it was always hard to tell with fire elementals.

She got to her feet. Welp, so much for being inconspicuous. He put on a pleasant smile as she approached him.

“Hullo,” he said, keeping his tone airy, though everything in him wanted to call her out on the unsolicited Check. “Help ya with somethin’?”

“Sorry about the Check,” she said briskly. “I noticed you here earlier while I was with my daughter. I try to run a Check on everyone when my daughter is around. You understand.”

“Oh, sure,” he said, though that sounded awfully paranoid to him. “I get it. No big deal.”

“My name is Plasma,” she said, extending a hand. “Grillby is my brother. My daughter and I are in town visiting.”

“Ah, hey, yeah,” Sans said, giving her hand a quick shake, his grin brightening. “I think Grillby mentioned you. The name’s Sans. Nice to meetcha.”

“You as well,” Plasma said, face cracking into a very faint smile. “I wanted to talk to you when I saw you earlier, actually. I’m glad I got another chance.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’ve never met a skeleton before. I’ve only ever read about them. It’s a real honor to meet a member of such an iconic species.”

“Haha, wow,” Sans said, cringing internally. “That’s real nice of you to say, but I ain’t that big a deal. Yanno, I thought there were a few skeletons left in New Home.”

“None that I’ve met, but then again, I spend most of my time in Hotland.”

“Well, uh. Glad to be the first skeleton you’ve met  _ in the flesh,” _ Sans said, winking.

She gave him a strange look before smiling again.

“Ah. That’s funny. Anyway, I hope I didn’t interrupt. I just wanted to at least say hello. Fire elementals are becoming fairly uncommon as well, and I always feel a sense of camaraderie with fellow rarities. Species like ours should have each others’ backs.”

“Sure, I guess. Never really thought of it that way. No offense, of course, you make a good point. And nah, you’re not interrupting. I’m just eating.” Sans ate a couple fries, hoping maybe that would make her take the hint. “Your bro makes some mean fries. And some meaner burgers.”

“I suppose,” she said, as if she hadn’t even heard him. “May I ask, do you have any family?”

“Yeah, I got a brother,” Sans said, focusing entirely on his food now. “Share a house with him in town.”

“Ah, how wonderful. And your parents?”

Anyone else and Sans would end the conversation right there, would just politely tell her to drop it and leave him alone. But Grillby would kill him if he pissed off his sister and compromised his relationship with Fuku. Sans was supposed to be on his best behavior. He didn’t dare look up to see whether Grillby was watching him, or was even nearby.

“Not around,” he said with as casual a shrug as he could manage.

“I see. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Eh, it is what it is.”

“Well, they must have been lovely people. You must be very grateful to them.”

It was such a wild, baffling statement that Sans felt his neutral grin slip a little. He schooled his expression into one of mild confusion when he looked over at her.

“Uh. Grateful?”

She didn’t seem to have noticed the slip. She looked confident, as if nothing could challenge her opinions.

“Well, yes. For bringing you and your brother into the world, I mean. For continuing your species.”

Sans was so taken aback that he couldn’t respond. He’d heard Grillby say that Plasma was intense and a conservationist, and he’d heard the snippets of her conversation with Redbird, but he’d had no idea just how deep it went. He had met other conservationists before, mostly in college. They usually weren’t this militant. They could be rigid and bitter, but they were usually just normal people concerned with preserving culture, their souls in the right place. But Plasma was clearly obsessed, completely sunk into her worldview. It probably wouldn't even occur to her that having kids for the sole purpose of continuing a tradition might not be the healthiest thing. And she certainly wouldn’t entertain the thought of those kinds of parents being anything but saints.

She reminded him of… 

“Oh,” she said, frowning a little when she saw his expression. “Forgive me, I didn’t offend you, did I?”

“Uh. Nah. No offense taken,” Sans said, trying to get himself back under control, trying desperately to think of a polite way out of this. “Just kinda caught me off guard. I’m sorry, I don’t really…uh, hm, how to put this. Stuff like that, thinkin’ about continuing species and all--it’s not really my thing. Uh. Like, maybe it really is just me and my brother left, but I don’t see it as that big a deal. Not something I can control or fix. Monsters as a whole are doing fine, so.”

Her frown deepened and she was clearly about to say something when Grillby appeared, as if he’d teleported.

“Plasma, you’re not bothering my customers again, are you?” Grillby asked. His tone was completely neutral, but his flames were flickering and dancing as he stared his sister down.

Plasma had to be able to read fire elemental body language even better than Sans could. So it was astonishing that she had the guts to smile sweetly up at him.

“Of course not, dear brother,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m not bothering you, Sans, am I?”

Sans steadfastly stared at his meal instead of looking at either of them. The extra heat was already making him sweat.

“Nah, it’s fine. Heh. Hard to bother me when I’m eating.”

“Grillby, you didn’t tell me that you knew not one but  _ two _ rare monsters,” Plasma said, voice still bright and fake.

“Yes. I collect them,” Grillby said, his own voice dry as a desert.

Holy shit. These two  _ really _ hated each other. Sans tried to hide in his burger.

“It certainly seems that way,” Plasma said, propping her chin on her hands. “Maybe I’ll make a conservationist of you yet.”

“Maybe. Sans, how are you finding your meal?”

Sans blinked up at him. “What? Oh. Yeah, uh, ‘s as good as always.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Sans saw a sudden opportunity for an out and seized it. “Actually, how ‘bout you bag up the rest and I’ll head out? Don’t wanna get in the way of family and all. Bet you guys got a lot to talk about.”

“Oh, no, don’t let me chase you away,” Plasma said. “I hope I wasn’t too pushy.”

“Nah, not at all,” Sans lied, the absolute picture of nonchalance. “You really got me thinking, Plasma. And I already take family real seriously. Speakin’ of, I like to be back home before my brother goes to bed.”

“Alright,” Grillby said, gathering up Sans’s plate. “I’ll bag it up for you.”

“Thanks, Grillb. You can put it on my tab.”

Grillby stopped. “You’re several days overdue already, Sans. I need you to clear your tab tonight.”

“Oh. Uh. Can’t I get an extension?”

Grillby’s flames bristled a little. “I’ve already given you two extensions.”

“Uh--”

“And you owe me from lunch earlier. I cut you enough slack as it is.”

“I--I know. I mean. I’m not-- _ ungrateful _ or anything.” Sans’s eyelights flicked toward Plasma. She was still watching with her usual intense expression.

Right. Best behavior.

“I, uh, I got it,” Sans said, digging out his wallet. “It’s no problem.”

“Then I’ll bag this up and get you your total,” Grillby said, and he marched away.

Plasma let out a sigh once he was gone.

“I really am sorry if I pushed you at all,” she said, flames smoothing out.

“No, no, you’re fine. Hope I didn’t come off as dismissive. Uh. Preserving species, it’s a real noble cause, I guess.”

“I certainly think so. You said you live with your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“What is he like?”

Good god, she was like a Temmie after Temmie Flakes. Sans was torn between the instinct to gush about his brother and the desire to never let this monster anywhere near him.

“He’s great. Best guy I know. Real hardworking, though--busy all the time.”

“Oh, really? Where does he work?”

Thankfully, Grillby returned at that moment with Sans’s bagged food and receipt. The total wasn’t too bad this time, so Sans just dug out the money and handed it over. He lingered for a moment, thinking Grillby might at least say goodbye, or come to Sans’s defense again. But he just turned and moved on to another customer.

Sans picked up his food and got to his feet.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Sans,” Plasma said. “I hope we can talk more sometime.”

“Yeah, sure. Might be in tomorrow,” Sans said, and he gave her what he hoped was a pleasant wave. She smiled in response.

Then Sans was out the door, out into the cold and blissful freedom. He sank back against the door with a heavy sigh. Damn. That had been--bad. But it could have been so much worse, he realized. At least Plasma and Grillby hadn’t gotten into an actual argument with Sans nearby. Sans didn’t do well with familial disputes. And at least he’d managed to get out of there before Plasma started grilling him about Papyrus. Or about his parents.

That was the worst part, really. It was too much of a reminder. The overbearing attitude, the constant questions, the fake sweetness when she was upset, the obvious disinterest in other people’s feelings. It reminded Sans too much of his mother.

He felt an immediate rush of sympathy for Fuku. That poor kid. Maybe Sans should have a chat with her.

And Grillby. Sans knew he was stressed, but he hadn’t expected Grillby to get so…strange about it all. Not intervening with Redbird earlier, sending Dizzy home early. And for all that they were supposed to be pretending to barely know each other, Sans had really expected Grillby to do more to get Plasma off his back. He must have seen it going down. He knew exactly how much Sans hated talking about himself. But nothing. Just a few snipes at his sister. Pushing Sans to clear out his tab, because of course Grillby was a good businessman who didn’t let his customers walk all over him.

Maybe that was needy, though. Wanting Grillby to have his back. Those two might hate each other, but family always took priority. Sure. Sans understood that.

Sans felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He sighed and pushed away from the door, pulling his phone out as he started to walk. It was a text from Grillby.

_ Meet me behind the bar tonight at 2 am. _

The dread came creeping back. Sans had thought he’d done a good job. Grillby must not think so. Sans gritted his teeth and responded.

_ okay, will do _

Best to get a nap in before Grillby yelled at him. Sans stuffed the doggy bag into his hoodie pocket and walked home.


	4. Prompt 4: Cold (The Caretaker and the Fire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby tells Sans a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** miscommunication, interpersonal drama
> 
> Chapter is SFW

Grillby wasn’t that much of a smoker. Cigarettes helped to take the edge off of things, but at the end of the day, they were just something else to burn. He only indulged once in awhile, mostly when he was stressed. And he was plenty stressed tonight.

He stood in the alley behind his restaurant, leaning back against the bricks and watching the little tendril of smoke issuing from his cigarette. Sans was going to be here soon, and given how observant he was, he’d probably notice the handful of butts at Grillby’s feet. It wasn’t like Sans didn’t already know that Grillby was stressed, but sometimes he felt like Sans could see right through him. Most of the time it didn’t matter. Right now, it just felt invasive. And unbalanced. Sans had a thousand secrets that he kept to himself, and until today, the only secrets Grillby had left had to do with his family.

Grillby had seen the way that Sans had looked at him and Plasma earlier in the bar. It had to look pathetic to him, the guy who loved his brother more than anything in the world. Two siblings who hated each other. How could Sans possibly understand that?

He wasn’t really being fair, he knew. Plasma was the one who had chosen to start an argument in public, for anyone to see. She always did, because she knew Grillby was too weak-willed to really fight back when people were watching--especially not when those people were customers. Plasma had never cared what people thought of her. It was her main strength. The fact that it had to be  _ Sans _ caught between them was just…so goddamn annoying. Of course it had to be Sans. Of course he just had to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The skeleton was always so good at being an inconvenience.

That still wasn’t fair. Grillby rubbed at his face and took a huge drag from his cigarette, enough that the ember almost turned into an actual flame. This was why it was so important for a fire elemental to control their emotions. Fire didn’t care about who or what got burnt. It was all too easy to take his stress out on everyone around him, especially the people he cared about. The people he cared about were usually the ones standing the closest, after all. Sans hadn’t even really  _ done _ anything yet. There was no reason for Sans to be getting on his nerves.

Except for the fact that he was already five minutes late. But that was to be expected. When had Sans  _ ever _ been on time to anything?

Grillby barely even heard him approach. There was a soft shifting of snow from out in the street, like a gentle footstep. Then Sans was rounding the corner. He grinned a little when he saw Grillby, his face as unreadable as always.

“Hey,” he said, moving further into the alley to hover a few feet away. He gestured to the cigarette in Grillby’s hand. “Can I bum one?”

Grillby wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure that Sans only smoked when Grillby was around. Grillby dug the pack out of his pocket and held it out. Sans took one and pressed it between his teeth. It made him look a bit ridiculous.

“Light?”

Grillby thought about just tapping the end of the cigarette with a finger. The stress must be making him reckless, because instead he placed his own cigarette back in his mouth and leaned down to Sans. Sans looked up at him in momentary, obvious surprise before he leaned up to meet him, rising onto his toes. Grillby caught hold of his shoulder to steady him as the ends of the cigarettes touched. He helped an ember leap to Sans’s end to light it. Then he let go.

Sans rocked back on his heels a little, looking like he’d almost forgotten about the cigarette. His face was flushed, which was exactly what Grillby had wanted.

“Uh.” Sans seemed to come back to himself, taking a pull from the cigarette. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“What? No.” Grillby leaned back against the wall again. “Why do you keep assuming I’m mad at you?”

Sans’s eyelights flicked to the side. Grillby tried to think of anything Sans had done that was worth being mad at him for. There was nothing really. Just Grillby’s generalized irritation at the world right now. Sans thrived on being annoying. Most of the time, that was just part of his charm.

“I dunno,” Sans admitted. He settled against the wall next to Grillby, keeping a few inches between them. “You get prickly when you’re stressed. I just never know how much of it is me.”

“It’s not you.”

“Okay.” Sans seemed to relax a little more. He glanced toward the snow at Grillby’s feet. “Rough day, huh?”

Sans didn’t know the half of it. He hadn’t been there to see the hours and hours of Plasma’s incessant questions, her demands, her insistence on inspecting every goddamn corner of the restaurant, her snide comments about Grillby and the restaurant patrons. How she’d taken most of the afternoon to commandeer an entire table so she could pore over Grillby’s restaurant license and all of the assorted paperwork that came with it. How Plasma kept whispering how sorry she was that her mom was like this. How the only time that Grillby had felt like he could breathe was when Plasma left for long enough to take Fuku back to the Snowed Inn.

“I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry about her,” Grillby said after a moment. “I was hoping she wouldn’t notice you.”

“Yeah. Uh.” Sans fell silent, nibbling at the end of his cigarette, looking like he was debating whether to say something. “Hey, maybe I  _ should _ just stay outta the bar til she’s gone. Just, yanno, for safety’s sake. And sanity’s sake, heh.”

“I…don’t want you to feel unwelcome at the bar.”

Sans gave him an uncomfortable look. “Well--I hate to say it, Grillb, but I think it’s kinda too late for that. She kinda kills the vibe. I get the feeling Redbird and Dizzy feel the same.”

“Hm.”

“She’s not…uh.” Sans scratched the side of his skull, a nervous habit of his. “She’s not gonna like…if Fuku did end up working here or something, Plasma wouldn’t like--stick around, would she?"

“No,” Grillby said, but then he hesitated. “Maybe for the first few days. But I wouldn’t let her stay that long. It’s  _ my _ restaurant.”

Grillby couldn’t help a slight release of flame, a few extra tongues of orange heat rising from his head and neck. Sans gave him a concerned look and Grillby brought himself back under control.

There was a silence. Eventually, Sans looked away, smoking quietly. He shivered a little. Grillby wondered if he was cold.

“Listen, uh,” he said. “I know it’s none of my business. And I get that family is complicated, believe me. I’m not gonna tell you how to, yanno, live your life or anything, but…it just kinda seems like she’s. Walking all over you? I, uh, I just mean--sending Dizzy home early. Even though you knew she’d just drink at home. Not interceding for Redbird. Uh. And I guess…I mean, I get we’re being discreet, but I guess I thought you’d…do something when you saw her talking to me.”

Grillby rumbled a little. Sans seemed to be doing his level best not to irritate Grillby further, but it just wasn’t working.

“I did try to intercede,” he growled. “With both of you. But once she has her sights set on something… I should have known she’d latch onto you two. I’m sorry she’s been bothering you, but there’s not much I can do. And Sans, you’re not a damsel who needs my protection from the scary lady with questions.”

Sans shot him a narrowed look.

“Okay, first off, it wasn’t just questions--it was some pretty goddamn  _ personal _ questions. Don’t act like you didn’t overhear. Second, it’s not about protection, it’s--whatever else we are, you’re supposed to be my friend, and friends stick up for each other. If she were anyone else,  _ I _ woulda spoken up for Redbird, but  _ you _ told me to keep it low-key. So I’m kinda counting on you to have my back here, and so is Redbird and everyone else. You know, I  _ heard _ her shit-talking the dogs. And third--the hell do you mean there’s nothing you can do? Just, I dunno, frame it as, your customers are complaining about her. Your customers are supposed to be the priority or whatever, right?”

“My  _ family _ is the priority,” Grillby said with a snap-pop of fire. “You of all people should understand that.”

“And I do. But--”

“Fuku is the only family I have,” Grillby said, unable to stop himself. “My mother is gone. My father and sister want nothing to do with me. I see Fuku maybe once a year, when Plasma is feeling generous. This might be my only chance to have a real connection with her. I can’t…I  _ can’t _ screw this up, Sans.”

Sans, thankfully, went quiet. Grillby didn’t look at him, but he could imagine Sans’s expression. The smaller eyelights, the look of surprise and perhaps sympathy, before Sans remembered himself and let his face go blank again. Like he wasn’t allowed to have emotions--or at the very least, no one was allowed to know that he did.

“I’m…sorry,” Sans said after a moment. “I didn’t know any of that.”

“I hate this,” Grillby whispered, desperately hoping it came off as angry instead of vulnerable. “I hate how much…control she has. I hate that she forces me to choose. I hate how--stressed it makes me, and how I end up--taking it out on everyone else. On you.”

Sans didn’t answer right away. But a moment later, he scooted a little closer, until his shoulder was flush with Grillby’s arm. Grillby wished he could grab Sans and just-- _ hold him _ for awhile. But there were still people out, even this late. Someone might glance down the alley and see them.

“We can talk about somethin’ else,” Sans said. “If you want.”

There was a swell of warmth in Grillby’s soul that had nothing to do with fire. This was why he liked Sans so damn much, against his better judgment, and why everything was so damn complicated. Grillby had met plenty of people like Sans before--emotionally closed off, damaged, hard to read. He thought he’d learned his lesson about investing in people like that, but then he’d seen what Sans looked like when he smiled for real. Sans was different. He didn’t push. He was understanding. He could be so accommodating. Too accommodating. It felt sometimes like Sans would let Grillby get away with just about anything.

And Grillby didn’t understand why. It was all mixed signals with Sans. It seemed sometimes like Sans desperately wanted a deeper relationship, but every time Grillby tried, he ran into a brick wall. Sans never let Grillby in, never explained himself, barely ever spoke up when he was upset, never let Grillby help. He could be putty in Grillby’s hands one moment and a stone wall the next. And yet he acted like all he wanted was for Grillby to carefully pull down that wall, brick by brick, and bring Sans out of whatever prison he’d put himself in. Grillby saw it sometimes, moments when Sans got all soft and warm. Moments like how Sans had blushed when Grillby had lit his cigarette. Moments like last night, the look on Sans’s face when he’d begged Grillby to hold him down. Moments like this, gently putting himself in Grillby’s space, the offer to just not talk about it anymore.

It was wonderful, really. And complicated. And frustrating. Grillby was pretty sure he was in love. He was pretty sure that Sans was too. And he was pretty sure that, if he told Sans how he felt, he would never see him again.

Grillby sighed too heavily. His cigarette was gone. He dropped the remains into the snow.

“Do you know the story of how fire elementals came to be?”

Sans looked up at him, face brightening a little now that they were seemingly moving away from heavy, familial topics.

“Don’t think so,” he said. “Am I getting a history lesson?”

“It’s more of a legend,” Grillby said. He thought about digging out another cigarette, but decided against it. He cleared his throat and took a breath. His mother had told him this story a thousand times, and he remembered every word.

“Long ago, there was a monster village at the base of a sacred mountain. It might have been Mt. Ebbott--who knows. The mountain was an active volcano, but in all the years the village had existed, the mountain had never destroyed it. In ancient times, the villagers had brought fire down from the mountain, and so the monsters and the mountain’s fire had learned to coexist. Because of that, there was a tradition in the village. Once a year, in the dead of winter when the world was at its coldest, a monster would climb the mountain and return the fire to the caldera at its peak. With the fire rejuvenated, the monster would bring it back down to the village. So long as the fire didn’t go out on the journey there or back, the village would have another year of prosperity.

“That year, the winter was particularly terrible. Endless blizzards and freezes. The mountain had frozen over. The trek would be even more treacherous than normal. At the temple of fire, none of the caretakers who looked after the fire wanted to make the journey, fearing for their lives. But one young caretaker stepped forward. He loved the fire, and he knew that if he didn’t return it to the mountain like always, then both the village and the mountain would be in danger.

“So he got his gear, and he placed the fire in a sacred lantern, and began the climb, right as the worst blizzard of the year was raging. He was brave and determined and careful, and knew the best path to take, and how to keep himself safe. The first part wasn’t too bad. There were caves and overhangs where he could take shelter from the wind and cold. But the blizzard was only getting worse the higher he went. The caretaker was most afraid of the wind. If he let go of the lantern, or if he wasn’t careful enough, then the fire would go out. And then surely the village and the mountain would be doomed. Worse, though, was the idea that the fire might die, when the caretaker had been charged with looking after it.

“He started talking to the fire, to keep his spirits up. He had spoken to the fire back in the temple a few times, but he always felt silly doing so. On the mountain, there was no one around to see. So he told the fire about his life, about his aspirations. He told the fire how important it was--how the fire kept their homes warm, how it augmented their magic, how it cooked their food. How the fire was precious. He swore to the fire that he would protect it.”

Grillby paused, looking upwards toward the cavern ceiling, lost in perpetual darkness. He could see Sans out of the corner of his eye. Sans was silent, completely enraptured.

“The air got colder. The wind got harsher. The caretaker struggled ever onward, climbing and climbing. He shielded the fire with his body. As he trudged through the snow, he could feel his soul beginning to wane. But he kept moving. As the snow nearly buried him, as he slowly froze, he kept moving, protecting the fire and talking to it. Maybe the fire’s warmth was the only thing keeping him alive at that point. Who knows.

“He finally reached the last leg of the journey before the summit. The snow was so thick he couldn’t even see where he was going. The path ahead was blocked, but he pushed through, though frost had now covered his whole body. Halfway through the blocked pass, the cold finally reached the caretaker’s soul. He fell, collapsing in the snow, curling around the lantern to keep it safe. Even while dying, he was still only thinking of the fire. He told it how sorry he was. How grateful he was to the fire for keeping him warm for so long. And with his dying breath, he told the fire he loved it.”

“And the fire, that until then had been just a fire, had a feeling. Then a thought. Then a will. It burst out of the lantern, growing stronger and brighter. It grew legs to walk with. It grew arms to carry with. It grew a soul to love with. And then it picked up the caretaker and carried him the rest of the way. The flames easily melted the snow away. The caretaker’s soul thawed. When he opened his eyes, he saw the flame that he had loved and protected could now love him, and protect him in return.

“When they reached the peak, the power of the mountain restored the fire, granting it the magic of a monster. The mountain awakened with smoke and lava, warming the land. The terrible blizzard began to subside. And then the fire and the caretaker returned down the mountain together, bringing fire back to the village. They lived happily together there for the rest of their days. And that’s how flame elementals came to be--born from a monster’s true love and devotion.”

Grillby fell silent. Sans was staring up at him with wide eyesockets, his face open and awed. He took a breath, like maybe he’d forgotten to breathe while Grillby was talking. Then he smiled, sweet and real.

“Wow,” he said softly.

It was just a creation myth. Not that important, and it wasn’t like Grillby was that good a storyteller. But god, when Sans looked at him like that…

Grillby thought of what Plasma would say if she could see them right now. What his father would say. He dug out his pack of cigarettes again.

“Man. That’s amazing. What a nice story.”

Grillby sighed a little as he lit a fresh cigarette. “Not really.”

Sans’s smile was gone in an instant. “Huh?”

“If you think about it, it’s a story about a monster devoting himself to and being willing to die for something that can’t love him back,” Grillby said, voice grim. He remembered his father had always been quick to remind him of that, always jumping in with logic and reality after his mother had finished the story. Flame isn’t just love, he’d say, and it was ridiculous to pretend so. Flame is also rage and destruction.

“The caretaker puts all that love and devotion into the fire. But it’s just a fire. He’s in love with something inanimate. The fire could have come to life at any time, but it didn’t, not until the caretaker was almost dead. The caretaker gave his whole self to something that couldn’t really give him anything back. Except warmth. And the fire couldn’t even do that. It was too small to keep the caretaker from freezing to death.”

Sans stared at Grillby like he was growing a second head.

“You--you get  _ that _ from that story?” Sans said, sounding incredulous. “But that’s--I mean, it’s a fairy-tale, you can’t apply real world logic to a fairy tale. Isn’t it just supposed to be a sort of…love conquers all kind of thing?”

“Sure,” Grillby said, looking away. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the caretaker puts his whole soul into this…thing that doesn’t reciprocate.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. It’s a fire. It wasn’t even alive yet.”

“Exactly,” Grillby said, trying to make Sans understand. “That’s the point. It’s unbalanced. The caretaker gives everything, and the fire gives almost nothing back, until it decides to at the end. The caretaker is a fool. Giving that much of yourself to something that’s just going to keep taking. Fire isn’t just love and devotion. Fire  _ doesn’t _ give back. It takes. It would have burned the caretaker’s body to keep itself alive. Fire can love if it chooses, but it also  _ destroys, _ whether it chooses to or not.”

Sans was dead silent beside him. When Grillby looked over, Sans was staring into space and frowning, his shoulders hunched up. Grillby watched as he dropped his forgotten cigarette into the snow.

“It just doesn’t seem right,” Sans said, voice distant.

“It doesn’t matter,” Grillby said, wondering why Sans was taking this so hard. “It’s just a story, anyway.”

“Why would you tell me a story like that if you hate it so much?”

Grillby frowned at him. “I don’t hate it. I just find it ridiculous. And this--crap, this flame elemental crap, it’s been on my mind. I can’t help but think about it when Plasma’s around.”

There was no one more true to what it meant to be a fire elemental, after all. Loving to those important to her, uncaring to everyone else. Devoted. Destructive when she needed to be, literally or not. Always balanced, always composed, always in control. The perfect fire elemental and the perfect daughter. And one with a child, no less--one who had succeeded in continuing the species.

Sans pushed off from the wall and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His expression was completely closed off again, unreadable. He gave Grillby one of his best fake smiles.

“So which one am I?” he asked. “The caretaker or the fire?”

“What?” Grillby responded, caught off guard.

“Probably the fire, right?” Sans said breezily. “The needy one. The ungrateful one.”

Grillby thought suddenly of last night. How Sans had pulled away from him and gone rigid. Grillby couldn’t remember what he’d said to set Sans off, but clearly Sans was still thinking about it. They hadn’t exactly had a chance yet to talk and clear the air.

He didn’t think he could deal with this right now. Sans had a thousand hang-ups that Grillby didn’t find out about until too late, and then he always refused to talk about it. He walled himself off and forced Grillby to try and guess at what he had done wrong and how to fix it. And of course the whole while, he would be apologizing and spiraling and telling Grillby that none of it was Grillby’s fault anyway, so he just shouldn’t worry. Like Grillby would be totally fine with just sitting there in the knowledge that he had somehow hurt Sans again, and that no matter how many times it happened, Sans was never going to explain how  _ not _ to hurt him.

Grillby didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to fix Sans. And he couldn’t deal with this right now. He had too much else on his mind. He was too liable to say something that would hurt Sans on purpose. Fire burned, regardless of whether it wanted to or not.

“If you’re just going to stand there and make vague assumptions about what I think of you, then this conversation is over,” Grillby said, stamping out his last cigarette. “Go home, Sans. I’m sorry again about Plasma. I’ll try to keep her off your back tomorrow.”

Sans’s expression was hard to read, but Grillby thought he caught a few glimpses of the truth beneath. Bitterness. Regret. Sadness. His grin became milder--a little more genuine, but not all the way. Like he was just tired.

“Okay,” he said, his voice soft again. “For whatever it’s worth, I liked the story. Sorry for making it weird.”

“It’s fine, Sans,” Grillby said, tired now as well. “We can talk properly once she’s gone. Sleep well, alright?”

“Yeah. You too.”

Sans turned and walked away, shivering a little as he went.


	5. Prompt 5: Note (his type)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plasma insists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** sexualized insults, dysfunctional families

Sans didn’t go straight to Grillby’s the next morning. He stopped outside the restaurant and peered through the windows, walking back and forth to get as many angles as he could, making it all look casual. He could see most of the regulars, as well as Grillby himself and Fuku. But no Plasma.

So, breakfast would be safe at least. And if she walked in partway through, he’d shortcut away. Grillby would probably rather an unpaid meal or two than to have Sans ever talk to Plasma again, and Sans agreed. It seemed like a solid enough plan.

He went on in, saying his usual hellos and giving Grillby a simple nod of acknowledgement. Fuku was behind the bar with him and seemed to be doing some kind of practice shift, following Grillby around while he gathered items, took orders or prepared food. Sans plunked down at his usual stool with a relieved sigh. Finally, a stress-free meal.

It went surprisingly well. Plasma never appeared, and the mood at the restaurant was chill. Redbird hadn’t returned, probably out of fear, but they were the only absence. Sans even had a chance to say hi to Fuku. Grillby was in a better mood than he’d been all week, his flames curling and jumping as he walked his niece through all the basics of running a restaurant. Sans was still careful not to say too much to him, but he caught Grillby smiling at him from across the room one time, and that was enough to make Sans’s soul feel buoyant.

Sans left in high spirits and didn’t notice Fuku follow him out until she spoke up.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Sans!”

They were right outside the front of the restaurant. Sans stopped and let her catch up, grinning at her.

“Hey, kiddo. What’s up? And uh, just Sans is fine, seriously.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fuku said, folding her hands together in front of her, green flames jumping with apparent nervousness. “I just, I wanted to talk to you for a minute, if that’s okay?”

“Course, Fuku, it’s no problem. I’m always down for anything that keeps me away from work.”

“Um, so.” Fuku moved a little closer and lowered her voice. “You’ve met my mom, right?”

“Yeah, uh. Ran into her last night,” Sans said, keeping his voice low as well. They were out in public, but there shouldn’t be a problem with a quick chat. Unless Plasma had forbidden her from talking to strangers, which Sans wouldn’t put past her.

“Yeah. Um. She can be--intense,” Fuku said sheepishly. “I just wanted to ask…um…if you talk to her again, would you mind--not telling her about--about me and Sasha?”

“Oh.” Sans gave her a surprised look, a little caught off guard. “No, yeah, ‘course I won’t tell her. She doesn’t know?”

“She knows we’re friends,” Fuku said, almost whispering now. “But um, she doesn’t know we’re dating.”

“Ah, jeez.”

“I don’t think she’d--be mad really? I was dating someone else a little while ago and she didn’t get mad about that. But I think--um--I think it’s cause, that one wasn’t really serious. Me and Sasha, though…we’re, like, really in love, and--I know my mom would  _ freak _ if she thought I was in a serious relationship with someone who’s--you know--not a fire elemental.”

“Yeah. I get it. I won’t say a word, don’t worry.”

“Okay. Thank you.” A bit of smoke rose from Fuku’s head as she sighed in relief. “She’s not a bad person or anything, but she’s just--so intense  _ all the time, _ and she never takes me seriously. She thinks I’m still just a kid. I  _ really _ want to go to work for Uncle Grillby, but she’s just so overprotective, and I don’t think they’ve  _ ever _ gotten along, so…I’m just kind of stressed right now. Um, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying this. I don’t know you that well and this isn’t your problem…”

Sans waved a hand. “Nah, it’s okay. Like I said, uh. I get it. My…” Sans stopped and tried again. “I’ve known people like her before. So I…kinda get what it’s like.”

“You do?” Fuku asked.

“Yeah. I mean. I just know it’s gotta be rough.”

Fuku kneaded her hands together, face rippling with distress.

“Yeah, it…it really is sometimes.”

Sans studied her for a moment, debating with himself.

“Hey. Uh. Might not be my place to say this,” he said slowly. “But, someday you’re gonna be away from her. You’ll have your own life and be able to make your own decisions and…she won’t have total control anymore. You know what I’m saying?”

Her flames flickered a little. Then she looked up and met his gaze for just a second.

“Thank you,” she said. “That--um. Means a lot.”

He gave her a gentle smile.

“Anyway. Good luck with the restaurant. I hope you get the job. I know Grillby really wants to be able to spend more time with you.”

Fuku beamed, her flames brightening.

“Thank you! I really do too! Actually, I’d better get back. Um, thanks again, Mr. Sans. Or, sorry, just Sans!”

He chuckled as she scampered back into the restaurant. She was a great kid. A great kid stuck in a pretty shitty situation, honestly.

Sans sighed to himself and went to work.

He did the same when he came back for lunch, lingering outside and peering in through the windows, feeling a bit creepy about it. Plasma was in this time, seated at the bar and going over what looked like several stacks of paperwork. Sans camped out across the street, waiting to see if she’d leave. When she hadn’t gone after about twenty minutes, he sighed to himself and grabbed a sandwich from Hyzenthlay’s shop instead. It tasted like defeat.

After that was a short shift in Hotland, during which Sans snuck himself a few spare hotdogs. When that was done, he stopped by home, thinking he’d say hello to Papyrus before checking Grillby’s again. As he approached the house he saw something poking out of his mailbox that didn’t look like a bill. Usually he ignored everything in the mailbox, but the paper looked different enough that he decided to check it out. He found a small, folded note stuffed into the very front, practically spilling out with the rest.

Sans had a bad feeling, but he unfolded the note and read.

_ Sans--I enjoyed our discussion yesterday. I wondered if you’d be willing to talk some more? I’ll be at the Hops Cafe around 8 tonight if you’d like to join me for coffee. I hope to see you then. Regards, Plasma _

Sans folded the note back up and stuffed it back into the mailbox. This was a stroke of luck. Even Plasma couldn’t be in two places at once. The Hops Cafe was two streets away from Grillby’s, so no chance of Plasma seeing the restaurant from out a window, either. Finally, Sans could get a proper, uninterrupted dinner, while Plasma couldn’t bother him or anyone else.

He spent the rest of the afternoon chilling with his brother, then left for Grillby’s a little after eight, soul buoyant again. One more night and then Plasma would be gone, and things could go back to normal.

Sans had barely even stepped out his front door when he heard a voice call his name.

“Ah, Sans, hello again!”

Plasma was coming up the street. Sans froze in his tracks.

“I’m so glad I caught you,” Plasma said with a pleasant smile as she drew level with him. “I had a feeling you might not have seen my note. Your mailbox is quite overstuffed.”

“Oh.” Sans looked stupidly over at his mailbox. “Oh. Sorry, yeah, I don’t check it as often as I should. Uh…sorry, it was…Plaza?”

“Plasma.”

“Right, right.” Sans tried to ignore the alarm bells in his head and flashed her a grin. “Well hey, nice to see you again. Were you lookin’ for me?”

“Actually, yes,” she said. “I enjoyed our chat yesterday. I was hoping you might be willing to talk some more. Do you want to get coffee? I found a lovely cafe in this charming town of yours.”

“Ah, jeez.” Sans stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave her an apologetic look. “That’s a nice offer, but coffee doesn’t sit well with me this late. I was actually heading to Grillby’s for dinner.”

“They have tea and cocoa as well,” Plasma said with another smile. “And they make very nice sandwiches, if you’re hungry.”

“I, uh.” Sans could just walk away. In a situation like this, he would pretty much always just walk away, because the average person knew better than to bother him like this. Sans had spent years and years perfecting an aura of someone who was chill and carefree, and who was also an immovable object. Not someone who could be pushed around.

But if he refused, would Plasma go tell Grillby that one of his customers had been rude to her? Would she take it as a sign that Grillby’s customers were difficult and unwelcoming? People like Plasma were experts at making mountains out of molehills.

“I don’t wanna be rude or anything,” Sans said as diplomatically as he could. “I just kinda already had plans is all.”

“Oh, I promise I won’t keep you for long,” Plasma said, still smiling like Sans had already agreed. “Please, I insist. Let me buy you a cocoa.”

There was no getting out of this. At least not in a way that went against certain societal norms. He stifled a sigh. Grillby was gonna owe him for this. If nothing else, this kept her out of the restaurant.

“Sure, alright,” he said, letting his grin brighten. “I do love cocoa.”

“Perfect. Come on, then. Have you been to Hops before?”

She started walking and Sans trailed a few paces behind her, cursing inwardly.

“I have, yeah. Generally prefer Grillby’s, but their pastries are some of the best this side of Hotland. Though Hyzen’s Cinnamon Bunnies are superior.”

“Ah, yes. Fuku and I got breakfast at her shop yesterday. Lovely place. And the inn too. So quaint.”

“Yeah, heh, that’s Snowdin for you,” Sans said, rolling his eyelights. “Quaint.”

He wondered if this was going to be as painfully awkward as yesterday had been. Grillby wouldn’t be around to get into an argument with her, but that just meant that she could ask all the personal skeleton-related questions she wanted. Sans would have to put his foot down eventually. She’d promised to keep it brief, at least, so that gave him an out. He’d make an excuse to not eat anything and then make something up about meeting friends at Grillby’s. It would be miserable, but he’d survive.

Plasma led him into the cafe. Sans took a seat at a small table near the door while Plasma put in their orders. A minute later, she sat down with a cocoa for Sans and a plain black coffee for herself.

“They do make a mean cocoa here,” Sans said, cradling the cup in his hands.

“I will have to try it sometime.”

“Your bro’s restaurant is the real gem of Snowdin, though,” Sans said with a mild grin. “You must be real proud of him.”

“Hm,” she said, in the exact same way that Grillby did when he wasn’t quite laughing.

“So.” Sans sipped his cocoa. “What did you wanna talk about? Skeleton stuff? I’m not much of a history buff or anything, but I’m happy to answer a few questions.”

“I’m glad to hear it! I wasn’t sure if I had scared you away yesterday. I know I can be off-putting at times. I did have one question, though, if you don’t mind.”

“Fire away, heh.”

Plasma sipped her coffee.

“How long have you been fucking my brother?”

Sans managed not to drop his cocoa. He also managed not to let his grin slip even a fraction, but it was a near thing. He tightened his grip on the mug, mind going blank for one long, awful moment as he stared at her.

“Sorry?”

She was completely expressionless. Even the movement of her flames gave away nothing, drifting gently back and forth and casting a cool teal glow on the table. The molten pits of her eyes were fixed on him.

“I think you heard me quite clearly,” she said, her tone unchanged. “But I will repeat it if you need to hear me say it out loud again. How  _ long _ have you been  _ fucking _ my brother?”

A second passed. Then another. Sans’s mind tried to click back into gear. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had caught him off guard quite like this. He looked around, but thankfully there was only one other person in the cafe, and they were on the other side of the room.

“Uh. I dunno where you’re getting your info--”

“I saw the way he looked at you yesterday,” Plasma said, folding her hands neatly around her cup. “I had my suspicions. Then I was looking through the restaurant’s financial records earlier. Your name was there, going back several years--running up tabs and not paying them off for weeks or months. He almost had me going yesterday, when he told you to pay up, conveniently with me sitting right there. Acting the firm but understanding businessman. Yet his financial records tell a very different story when it comes to you, specifically. He cuts you far more slack than any of the other regulars. Curious, that. And at the end of the day, my brother has never been as subtle as he thinks he is.”

Sans felt his eyesockets go wider as she spoke, unable to stop himself. His grip on his cocoa tightened even further, until he heard his bones squeak against the cheap ceramic. 

Plasma curled one hand beneath her chin and propped her elbow on the table, never taking her eyes off him.

“Plus, you’re exactly his type.”

That startled Sans into answering, thrown off again.

“What?”

“A charity case,” she said plainly. “A broken monster he thinks he can fix. Someone who needs him.”

“I--wow.” Sans shook his head, clearing the cobwebs, his grin starting to widen. Caught. They’d been caught.

He didn’t have to pretend anymore.

“Wow,” he said again, propping his chin on his hand as well, peering at her. “You’re a real piece of work, huh? Takes a lot of nerve to make that kinda judgment call about someone after one conversation.”

“It’s not nerve so much as basic observation,” Plasma said. “Every monster in that dive of his is a charity case. Drunkards and lonelyhearts. That is not a place for people who have their shit together. And I saw your HP, Sans.”

“Dunno how my HP factors into any of this,” Sans said, taking a drink without breaking eye contact. “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to Check strangers without asking?”

She smiled a little, and this time, it wasn’t pleasant.

“Your parents must have been very disappointed,” she said. “With HP like that, I doubt that you can have children at all.”

“Lady.” Sans’s eyesockets went black. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me or my family.”

She tilted her head a little, momentarily curious, like she hadn’t expected much of a defense.

“You can believe whatever you want,” Sans said, eyelights flickering back to life. “You wanna believe Grillby and I are sleeping together, not like I can stop you. I don’t got a cure for paranoia up my sleeve. Just a hand buzzer and some whoopee cushions, heh. Seems weird to be that hung up about who you’re brother’s fucking, but I guess I’m fortunate that it ain’t something I need to worry about. So, now what? What’s the point of this? You gonna tell me to back off, that Grillby needs to be with his  _ own _ kind?”

“Oh, no,” Plasma said airily, picking up her coffee again. “Not at all. I gave up on him a long time ago. He can fuck whatever whore he thinks needs the most saving. I don’t care.”

Sans chuckled into his cocoa.

“But Fuku? Well. I can’t have her in an environment like this, can I? Exposed to the kind of trash in that dive of his. I can’t have her getting ideas.”

Sans gave her his darkest, most mirthless grin, eyelights disappearing again. Eventually Plasma would find out about Fuku and Sasha, if she didn’t suspect already. What then? Would her worldview change completely, or would she start treating her own daughter like she treated her brother?

Sans had met enough conservationists to have a good idea of the answer.

“You must be a helluva mother.”

Her face didn’t change. But her flames flickered, just the slightest bit, a mote of blue leaping from her head.

“I am, Sans,” Plasma said. “I am a hell of a mother.”

“She deserves a relationship with her uncle,” Sans said, eyesockets narrowing. “You say you care about preserving the species and the culture, yet you’re cutting her off from her own family member.”

“Do yourself a favor, Sans, and never try to tell anyone how to raise a child. It doesn’t suit you at all.”

“You’re gonna lose her if you keep it up. Same as you’ve lost your brother.”

She smiled suddenly.

“Do you want to know why my family disowned him?”

“Not really.”

“He was always a hopeless romantic. Always chasing the next monster he thought he could save, always falling helplessly for monsters who needed him until they didn’t. But finally he settled down. Finally he met another fire elemental. They were going to get married--did he ever tell you he was almost married? Two days before the ceremony, he ran. Ran off with some Pyrope who ditched him less than a year later. The other elemental’s family was furious. My father was furious. It tore the family apart. The stress of it killed my mother. All because my brother refused to do his duty. All because he chose some lonely whore like you over his own family.”

Plasma drained her coffee. Sans stared at her, feeling sick down to his soul. He didn’t want to know this. This was private. Grillby would hate him for knowing something like this. And the thought that a family could rupture like that, the thought that if things had gone differently, the same could have happened to Sans and his own brother. He could remember hearing his parents talk about setting him or Papyrus up with other skeletons, discussing other families that might have children around the same age. Most of that talk had dried up when they had realized what Sans’s HP meant.

And the thought that he wasn’t anything special to Grillby. That he might be just the latest in a line of charity cases. Another needy, ungrateful monster, using Grillby until he was used up.

“That’s what happens when you get that obsessed with tradition,” he said grimly. “Families get torn apart.”

Another crackle from her, another jump of flame.

“Yes, of course. Fire elementals, skeletons, bird monsters, all of us should just lay down and accept our fates.”

“Nothin’ wrong with hybrid kids. Nothin’ wrong with passing the culture onto them. They get to have two histories for the price of one. What’s wrong with that?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Sans finished his cocoa with a sigh.

“I do, actually. You’re really gonna ruin things for Fuku and Grillby over this, huh?”

Plasma got to her feet, straightening her jacket.

“Grillby did that on his own,” she said with an air of finality. “I hope he finds you worth it, Sans.”

Sans snorted. “Yanno, I feel bad for you.”

“That seems like a waste of your time.”

He met her eyes and gave her a tired smile.

“I just know what it’s like to lose a brother.”

She stared at him, looking for a moment like she wanted to fire back. But then she straightened, turned, and walked out.

Sans stared into the sludge at the bottom of his mug and didn’t move.


	6. Prompt 6: Sharp (there are different kinds of pain)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby confronts Sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings: physical abuse, verbal abuse** accidental injury, fire

Sans had been waiting in the alley behind Grillby’s for hours, sitting on a crate and smoking his way through an entire pack of cigarettes, when the fire exit finally slammed open. All those hours of preparing what he would say, but the words disappeared from his head when he saw the door bounce off the wall with a loud  _ bang. _

Grillby emerged, carrying a bag of trash, his flames already jumping and whipping around. He threw the bag into the nearest trashcan and was about to head back into the restaurant when he spotted Sans. Sans hopped to his feet.

“Grillby--”

“You.”

Plasma had already gotten to him. Sans had expected as much.

“Listen, I--”

“What did you say to her?” Grillby demanded, crossing the distance to him. “What the  _ fuck did you say to her?” _

Sans backed away, knocking his knee against the edge of the crate. He came up against the opposite wall. Grillby towered over him, flames roaring.

“I didn’t--”

“Did you  _ tell her?” _

“No, of course n--”

“Then  _ what?  _ She said you  _ confirmed it.” _

“She already--”

“Why the fuck were you even  _ talking _ to her again?”

“Will you just let me explain?” Sans snapped, squinting against the brightness of the flames. He had known that Grillby would be angry, but he had never seen him like this.

“Then  _ explain.” _

“I’m  _ trying.  _ She already knew,” he said, raising an arm to shield his face from the growing heat. “She figured it out on her own.”

“Did you even  _ try _ to deny it?”

“Grillby, you need to calm down.”

_ “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down,” _ Grillby snarled, his form starting to lose definition. “One more night, Sans,  _ one more night  _ and she would’ve been  _ gone.  _ You couldn’t even do this  _ one goddamn thing _ for me.”

Sans’s eyelights flicked to the sides, searching for a way out of this. His back was pressed to the wall and there were garbage cans and detritus on either side, blocking his escape. He could teleport, but he didn’t want to just disappear. Grillby might be furious, but it wasn’t like he was going to hurt him.

“I  _ tried,” _ Sans said, keeping his voice calm, hoping that would calm Grillby down as well. The heat was starting to become uncomfortable. “I  _ tried _ but it was like she knew the whole thing already, she said she’d been through your financial records--”

_ “Why the hell were you speaking to her in the first place?” _

“She insisted! I didn’t want her to get pissed at me and then go take it out on you!”

“Since when are you so  _ bad _ at running away? Since when are you  _ so bad _ at avoiding things?”

“Fuck you,” Sans growled, glaring up at Grillby, though it was hard to keep his eyesockets open. Grillby had gone nearly white, his glow blinding. “This wasn’t my fault.”

He raised the cigarette to his mouth again, but Grillby caught hold of his wrist and pushed it back against the wall. Sans dropped the cigarette and stared up at Grillby, blinking against the glow, trying to tug his arm free. Grillby’s fingers had lengthened and sharpened into something like claws, wrapping all the way around Sans’s wrist.

“No, you’re right, it’s  _ my own fault _ for counting on you,” Grillby said, his voice almost inaudible over the roar of the flames.

“Let go.”

Sans could feel heat building around his wrist. Grillby’s grip tightened until Sans felt the bones start to bend. He hissed through his teeth and all at once fear spread through his soul, as sharp and cold as a knife. He couldn’t teleport with Grillby holding on like this.

“I should have known.  _ I can never count on you for anything.” _

“I said  _ let go.” _

“Or did you do it on purpose? Did you just want me  _ all to yourself?” _

“Grillb, come on,” Sans said, the anger dissolving from his voice. He tried to pull away as the heat increased. “Please, you’re kinda scaring me here…”

“Was that it?  _ Jealousy?  _ Or do you just  _ hate _ to see me happy?”

“No, I  _ wanted _ you to be happy, I tried--” Sans flinched, his arm feeling like he’d shoved it into an oven. He grabbed the arm with his free hand and tried to pull himself free. “Stop, you hafta let go--”

“Yes, I should have let you go  _ days _ ago.”

“Grillby--”

“And now  _ everything is ruined.” _

“S-Stop--”

_ “Because of you.” _

Smoke started to rise from Sans’s sleeve and he panicked.

“Let go!  _ Let go! Please, you’re hurting me!” _

Sans tried to wrench away. Grillby finally let go, lurching backward. For half a second, Sans saw flames crawling up his sleeve--then they jumped away as Grillby made a tugging motion, dragging the flames back into the rest of his form. Sans threw himself to the ground, shoving his arm into a pile of snow.

The burning feeling subsided, leaving a vicious ache. Breathing fast, Sans hauled himself backward against the wall again, pulling his arm out of the snow and tugging off his hoodie as fast as he could. The sleeve was still smoldering a little, charred all the way through in places. Sans tossed his hoodie away and quickly inspected his arm, his soul pounding.

It felt worse than it was. Singe marks in the shape of a hand, bruises starting to bloom beneath the soot. His sleeve had gotten the worst of it and Grillby’s quick thinking had kept most of the fire from reaching bone. Sans sank back against the wall with a shaky sigh of relief, draping his arm in his lap, covering his mouth with his other hand. He was trembling and his arm ached like hell, but he was alive. No HP loss. Not even a decimal point.

It had been close, though. It had been so close.

“Oh god…oh god, Sans…”

Grillby had scrambled back against the opposite wall. His color had gone from white to orange, and as Sans watched it dulled further into red, shrinking away like he was about to go out.

“I’m okay,” Sans whispered.

“Oh  _ god.” _

“Grillb, I’m okay.”

“Oh god, I almost…I could’ve…”

“You didn’t.” Sans wrapped his uninjured arm around himself. He was shivering with adrenaline, cold and fear. “You stopped in time.”

Grillby buried his face in his hands and curled in on himself, flames dulling even further. Sans lifted his hoodie out of the snow to inspect it. Part of the sleeve fell away, burnt to a crisp. The rest of the sleeve was blackened.

“Fucked up my hoodie is all,” Sans said, feeling a twinge of regret. He had other hoodies, but he’d had this one for ages. A few stitches weren’t going to fix the sleeve. The hoodie was ruined. He tossed it aside.

“I’m sorry,” Grillby said, voice smaller than Sans had ever heard it. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey.”

_ “I’m sorry.” _

“Hey.” Sans dragged himself upright, careful not to jar his singed arm. He braced himself against the wall for a few breaths, until he was sure he could walk. He felt light-headed, but he didn’t think he was about to fall over. His soul pulsed with the terrified need to keep away, to run, to avoid a threat. But what would Grillby think if Sans ran now? He’d never forgive himself. Sans  _ couldn’t _ be afraid of him. He forced it down, buried it as deep in his soul as he could. With a grunt of effort, he pushed off the wall and crossed the alley to Grillby. Grillby shrank away as Sans approached.

Sans crouched down in front of him, ready to leap back if he needed to.

“I’m okay, Grillby. See?” Sans held out his arm a little, but Grillby didn’t lift his head. “I’m okay.”

“I could’ve killed you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I  _ hurt you,” _ Grillby said, guttering like a candle. “I lost control and I  _ hurt you.” _

“It’s…” Sans trailed off, studying the singes again. The soot would wash off. The bruises were worse. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been bruised. He felt numb almost, far away, like this was someone else’s arm.

He really hadn’t thought that Grillby could hurt him.

“It’s--fine.”

“It’s  _ not _ .”

Sans sighed quietly. He rose again, moving around to Grillby’s side instead. He slid down the wall and sat next to him, still keeping a few inches away.

“I forgive you,” he said softly. “If that’s what you need to hear. You were mad. You had every right to be mad. I ruined everything for you.”

Grillby didn’t answer, his arms wrapped around his head, obscuring his face.

Sans had to explain it. Convince Grillby that he wasn’t mad, that he wasn’t afraid, that this wasn’t his fault, that it didn’t matter. Blame the whole thing on Plasma. Like it was Plasma who had almost burned him.

“She cornered me on the way to the restaurant. Said she just wanted to talk. I thought if I said no she’d get pissed and go yell at you. I thought it was just gonna be more personal questions. But she already knew. She saw right through us. Said a bunch of shit to me and left. I…I shoulda tried harder, kept denying it, or…fuck, I shoulda just stayed away. Shoulda stayed away as soon as she got to town. I’ll--I’ll try to remember that. For next time. I just--I was selfish, and I thought I could handle her. I’m sorry, Grillby.”

“No.” Grillby shifted a little, pressing his face to his knees. “I should’ve known she’d see it. She’s always been so damn smart. And I’m the one who kept telling you not to avoid the restaurant. I--I wanted you there, even though… But it doesn’t matter. None of this was your fault. How could I just, just assume you had told her? Of course you wouldn’t tell her, why would I think you would? I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. I shouldn’t have said all those things. I lost control. A fire elemental  _ can’t _ lose control. I…god, Sans, I’m so sorry.”

Sans scooted just a little bit closer.

“You didn’t hurt me that bad.”

“I shouldn’t have hurt you  _ at all.” _

Sans started to reach tentatively for Grillby’s shoulder. As soon as he made contact, Grillby flinched away.

“Don’t,” Grillby hissed. “Don’t touch me.”

Sans pulled his hand away. “It’s…it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“That doesn’t  _ matter.  _ It’s--it’s  _ you.  _ I can’t make a mistake like that with you.”

Sans draped his arms in his lap again. He stared at the injury. The bruises had gotten darker. He’d have to cover this before he went home. He didn’t know what Papyrus would do if he saw.

“I still forgive you,” Sans said, too quiet, unable to take his eyelights off the bruising. “Don’t…don’t go guttering out over a mistake, okay?”

Grillby didn’t respond. Sans fell silent, shivering a little harder. Grillby was giving off barely any heat at all now, and without his hoodie, Sans was starting to feel the chill. He gingerly touched his arm and stifled a hiss. The bone was much more tender than he’d expected. It had been so long since he’d bruised anything that he’d forgotten what it felt like.

“Is she gone already?” he asked when they’d both been silent for what felt like hours.

“She came in a few hours ago.” Grillby’s voice was barely a whisper, a banked fire. “Hauled Fuku out. Fuku was yelling at her, but Plasma ordered her to go to the inn and pack her things. Then in front of the whole restaurant, she told me that she should have expected me to choose a whore over my family again.”

Sans rubbed at his forehead with both thumbs.

“She sure likes throwing that word around.”

“We argued. She said you confirmed it. Then she left. They’ll be back in Hotland by now. She won’t let Fuku near Snowdin ever again. So…don’t think there’s going to be a ‘next time.’” 

That wasn’t what Sans had meant, but of course he couldn’t just say that. Couldn’t explain it. This all might happen again in the exact same way with the next Reset, or none of it could happen at all. No way of knowing. But at least, if in some future timeline he ever heard Plasma’s name, maybe he’d know to stay away.

“She’s kinda awful, huh.”

Grillby made a soft sound. A little exhale, something almost close to a laugh.

“She is.”

“I’m…sorry, Grillby,” Sans said, digging the heels of his hands into his eyesockets. “I know how much this meant to you. I shoulda tried harder. If I’d just--”

“No.” Grillby let out a long sigh and finally unfolded himself. He stretched one leg out in the slush and dropped his arms to his sides. He leaned his head back against the bricks and stared upwards into the darkness.

“It’s her,” he said. “It’s always been her. She was never going to let Fuku work here. I should have known. She was just looking for an excuse. It’s always like this. No one else gets to me like she does. I let her stress me out and then I take it out on everyone else. I took everything out on you. I’ve…I’ve treated you like shit all week, haven’t I.”

He didn’t say it like it was a question, but Sans answered all the same.

“You’ve--I mean--you’ve been stressed, like you said. And I didn’t exactly make it easy. I never do. I don’t blame you. And you didn’t  _ let _ her stress you out. It’s pretty clear she does it on purpose.”

Grillby didn’t answer, rubbing at his face with his hand. Sans couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. He had never seen Grillby cry. He wasn’t even sure what it would look like.

“And like you said, at the end of the day it’s her fault, yeah?” Sans said, scooting a tiny bit closer. “I think she’s got more hang-ups than both of us combined. We could…we could just blame her instead of…yanno. Blaming each other.”

“But it’s not that simple, is it?”

Sans ducked his head, eyelights going out.

“No. I guess not.”

Plasma wasn’t the one who had caused Sans all of his issues. And Plasma wasn’t the one who had lost her temper and nearly set him on fire.

He wasn’t processing it, he realized. Even though he kept staring at the singes and bruises. He wasn’t processing the fact that Grillby was the one who had done it. That Grillby had hurt him. That Grillby really could have killed him. His mind kept skating away from it, and all he could think was that Grillby couldn’t blame himself for this, that this couldn’t be a big deal, because if it was, then…

“I. Think you should go home,” Grillby whispered. “I need--we need time.”

“Grillb, I don’t--” Sans couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice. “I don’t want us to be over because of this. I forgive you, okay? For all of it. It doesn’t have to matter, we can just--we can pretend it all didn’t happen.”

“Sans…”

“I know, okay, I know that’s fucked up, I know I should be angry or something, I know it’s stupid and desperate, but I can’t--”

“Sans.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“We need time,” Grillby said, his voice so gentle that it hurt. “Alright? Just some time.”

“What if there  _ isn’t _ time?”

“Sans. Please.” Grillby very gingerly touched Sans’s shoulder, pulling his hand away before Sans could feel even a trace of warmth. Like he was afraid he might burn Sans again.

“I need this,” Grillby said. “I need time. You need time. You know it too, don’t you?”

He did, was the thing. But there was never time. Never enough time to think. Never enough time to figure it all out.

So the Reset would happen, and this would all be erased, and they would start from scratch. Again. And again and again and again. Sans would wake up in a timeline where it still wasn’t possible for Grillby to ever hurt him. Where the thought would never even cross his mind.

Maybe that was for the best.

“Okay,” Sans heard himself say. “Time.”

“I’m sorry about your arm. And--your hoodie.”

“I’m sorry too,” Sans said. He forced himself to his feet and dug his hoodie out of the slush. “Don’t…stay out here too much longer, okay? Lotta this snow has melted. You’re burning low enough already.”

“I know,” Grillby said, not moving. “I won’t.”

Sans looked down at him, trying to force himself to smile like always. Just pretend this didn’t matter. But he couldn’t.

The least he could do was not cry in front of Grillby.

“I--I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yes.” Grillby nodded. “I’ll see you, Sans.”


	7. Prompt 7: Distance (all you really need is a love of heat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Grillby talk, finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** dysfunctional families, unhealthy relationships, self-hatred, references to abuse
> 
> Chapter is SFW

A week passed.

Sans went to other restaurants and got drunk at other bars. He ordered takeout. He choked down Papyrus’s spaghetti. He sold hotdogs at his stand and didn’t see Fuku or Sasha even once. He worked at his sentry stations. He moped in his room. He lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, trying and failing not to think.

The Reset didn’t happen.

Most of the soot on his arm washed off, like he’d thought it would. The bruises faded from ugly purples and blues to dull green and then yellow. He didn’t tell Papyrus, and he kept his arm covered. Papyrus never noticed. Sans started wearing one of his other hoodies, one that was less comfortable, in a different shade of blue, with a hood that didn’t fit his head quite right. Papyrus did notice this. When he asked, Sans just said that he’d dumped ketchup on the sleeve of his old one and it was basically destroyed. Papyrus seemed to believe him.

Sans didn’t try to contact Grillby. He checked his phone multiple times a day, but Grillby never tried to contact him, either. Sans caught himself over and over, scrolling through old text conversations, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Sometimes he’d type out a sentence or two and then delete it.

Time. They were taking some time, that was all. It was fine. It was normal. People needed some distance now and then. And surely the Reset would happen soon, and none of it would matter anymore.

Except the Reset didn’t happen. And as the days passed, Sans had no choice but to think. And examine, and consider, and delve. In many ways, that hurt worse than the burn had. It was usually so easy to avoid this sort of thing, to simply not think too hard about consequences, shortcomings, failures, miscommunications. But even before he and Grillby’s relationship had become…whatever this was, the restaurant and the monster himself had been important to Sans. Too big a part of his everyday routine, his identity. He couldn’t avoid it forever. It would have been like trying to avoid Papyrus forever.

He had no choice but to feel it all. Sorrow and regret, then bitterness and anger, then resignation. This was just another thing that had gone wrong, another thing he wouldn’t get back. The Reset hadn’t happened, but someday it would, and then they could do this all over again. Until then, this was just going to be how it was. It was over. Better to just accept it. Sans stopped moping and tried to recapture at least some semblance of normal. He’d return to the restaurant in time, and he and Grillby just wouldn’t say anything, and that would be fine. At least Grillby and the regulars would stay in his life. That had to be better than nothing.

But then, eight days after their fight, Grillby texted him.

_ Hello, Sans. I hope you are well. I would like to talk to you when you have time and are willing. If you would prefer not to speak to me again, I will understand. Please just let me know. _

It was disgusting, the eager rush of relief, the tentative spark of hope. He hated it. Not because it was Grillby, but because of how  _ easy _ he was. He was so goddamn pathetic. He could feel himself already trying to rationalize away all the decisions he’d made and conclusions he’d come to over the course of the last week. It wasn’t even entirely his usual brand of self-hatred. This was part of the problem--how he just melted for Grillby, like he would have been willing to give him anything. If Grillby was the kind of person to walk all over people, Sans would have let him.

Grillby deserved better. He deserved--honesty. So if they were actually going to do this, actually going to talk, then Sans needed to do this  _ right.  _ He waited to answer until he’d composed himself and gotten his head back on straight. It took about an hour of sitting at his sentry stand, staring at his phone.

_ i think i do want to talk, yeah. tonight okay? i could swing by the restaurant. might wanna do more private tho. _

He waited. Grillby answered only a few minutes later.

_ Private would be best. Could we do coffee? _

Sans grimaced.  _ so long as its not hops. _

_ Then how about we meet near the cliff at the edge of town? I’ll bring coffee. _

It was perfect. Neutral ground, and no one would be there. Trust Grillby to think of everything.

_ sounds great. what time? _

Sans had the rest of the day to steel himself, to wrestle with all the lies he wanted to tell and all the insincerity that was practically written into his soul. He had to do this right, even if all of his instincts were telling him to lie, to make it not a big deal, to just say whatever Grillby needed to hear and move on. Get back to normal in any way they could. The Reset would wipe all of this away. This was maybe their one chance to be real with each other, for Sans to actually tell the truth. 

It was...uniquely terrifying. The idea of real, true reconciliation and not something buried away under Resets or lies.

Sans let Papyrus know that he would be out for awhile and headed to the cliffside that evening. He even tried to be on time for once in his life. He was more nervous than he’d been in a very long time, to the point that he had to consciously will himself not to shake. He distracted himself by saying hello to everyone he saw as he walked through Snowdin, acting like nothing was wrong. Like always.

The cliff lay just on the outskirts of town, a natural barrier between the town and the forest. There were still traces of paint from where Papyrus had created his final trap for the human. It felt like so long ago now. It was a nice enough spot, where the cavern ceiling rose the highest. Sometimes light would glint off the far away icicles and stalactites, creating a more subtle effect than the glowing crystals of Waterfall.

Grillby was there already, staring out across the chasm and holding a thermos. He turned as Sans approached and Sans felt his soul leap. He kept his grin neutral, not wanting to look too eager or too wary. He stopped a few feet away and stared at Grillby. Grillby stared back.

“Hey, Grillb.”

“Hello, Sans,” Grillby said quietly. His flames were curling away from his head, like maybe he was just as nervous as Sans.

Sans moved forward, joining him at the cliff’s edge.

“It’s, uh. Good to see you.”

“You as well.” Grillby held up the thermos. “Coffee?”

“A little, sure,” Sans said, finally letting himself smile, though it was faint. “Coffee don’t sit well with me this late. You…uh, got sugar?”

“Already added,” Grillby said, unscrewing the cap on the thermos and pouring a cup. “Extra sugar, no cream.”

Grillby knew exactly how Sans liked his coffee. He was trying to be accommodating. His smile broadened a little as he accepted the coffee and took a sip. Grillby poured a cup for himself as well, then went back to staring out toward the forest. Sans followed his gaze, but there was nothing to look at. Just darkness and trees.

“So.”

“So.”

“How’s…how’s your wrist?”

“It’s fine,” Sans answered honestly. “The burn was nothing. Bruises are already gone. Can’t remember if you Checked that night, but it wasn’t even a decimal point. All superficial. I’m okay.”

“Alright. I’m glad. I…” Grillby paused. He took a breath. “I am…so sorry. I know I said it that night. But I wanted to say it again. I…I care a great deal about you, and hurting someone you care about like that is inexcusable. I never should have taken my anger out on you. I never should have lost my temper. And I’m--sorry for the things I said then. There’s no excuse for that, either. I was just…so angry. I should’ve controlled myself better. I’m sorry.”

The instinct to tell Grillby that it was fine, no big deal, that they should just move on and forget about it, was almost overpowering. Sans tightened his grip on the little cup of coffee and took another sip. God, he was so messed up. So much of him was more than willing to overlook everything that had happened last week.

Grillby deserved better. Even if it meant hurting them both.

“I forgive you,” Sans said at length. “I, uh. I guess maybe that sounds…too easy, or something? Like…like maybe I’m just saying it so we can move on and forget it, cause. Cause that’s what I always do. But I, uh. I had all that time to think, and…I-I know it’s not like me, and that’s part of the problem, but I…I wanna…actually talk about it? And…explain why I forgive you, so you don’t think it’s just--just me dodging the issue, like always. If…I know I’m rambling, but does that, uh. Make sense?”

Sans had kept his eyelights in the middle distance, pretending to watch something interesting in the forest. Now he looked up at Grillby briefly, just to try and gauge his reaction. Grillby was staring at him, open surprise on his face. Like he had expected something completely different. And why wouldn’t he? A normal person would be furious with Grillby, probably. And Sans on a normal day would jump to forgiving him and moving on, like he’d said.

Clearly he hadn’t expected for Sans to want an actual conversation.

“Yes, it…it makes sense,” Grillby said slowly. “You’re certain? I would…I would completely understand it if you simply wanted to never see me again. You would be justified.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“But you want to talk?” Grillby asked, his voice tentative like he was afraid to press too hard. “And you--forgive me?”

“I do. To both things.”

Grillby still looked surprised. Sans looked out across the chasm again, feeling his face start to warm.

“Alright, then. I’ll listen.”

Sans smiled a little. Grillby was always a good listener, even when Sans was just feeding him his usual bullshit.

He took a deep breath. This was going to be hard, and it was so easy to just quit while he was ahead, to give up. Once the Reset happened, none of this would matter anyway. The problem was that it  _ did _ matter, and it was going to keep mattering  _ until _ the Reset. If there was a chance to make at least this one timeline a little easier, to explain himself for once…

“I do forgive you,” he said again. “I think in the moment, I really was just saying it to, yanno. Pretend it was fine. That’s--that’s my whole thing, after all. But I, uh, thought about it. Because…you  _ did _ lose control. And you  _ did _ hurt me. And I know you didn’t mean it, but it still happened. And--and fuck, I wish it didn’t have to be…like this. I wish I wasn’t so goddamn--fragile. But…I am, and. And that means I need people to be in control of themselves around me. And I think, even if I wasn’t like this, it’s like you said, people can’t just--hurt people like that. I was…y-you scared the shit outta me, Grillby.”

Grillby’s flames banked a little, his color dimming.

“I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I think the fucked up thing is that I’m kinda used to it,” Sans said, staring into his coffee. “Trusting people and then having them… Heh, I mean. I did get mad at you for a bit. Once I could think straight, I got mad at you. And it sucked, cause I always just wanna, I dunno. Blame myself. Or just blame Plasma. I didn’t wanna be mad at you. I wanted to just get over it. Pretend it didn’t matter. Maybe I’m still a little mad at you. Partially cause it was just the last thing in a shit week. I…fuck.”

Sans rubbed at his face, shrinking a little.

“Why is this so fucking hard?”

“It’s alright,” Grillby said, and though Sans wasn’t looking at him, he felt his warmth increase again. “I’m listening.”

“I’m scared,” Sans whispered. “All the time. I’m so fucking scared of losing you. And it’s fucked up, because I feel like I’d let you get away with anything if it meant that--you k-kept me. That was why such a huge part of me wanted to just forget it, like…like I wanted to excuse it, cause then at least we’d stay together. I-I didn’t think you were capable of hurting me like that. And then you did, and I realized how I’d just automatically forgive you for it, and how fucked up that was. And, heh, usually there isn’t enough  _ time _ to actually think about this shit, and even if there is, I never talk about it anyway. I-I’m so close to just giving up right now, yanno? Just walking away. Like I always do. God. I don’t even know if any of this is making sense. This is gonna sound crazy, but the world is supposed to just--end before I even have a  _ chance _ to try.”

Sans fell silent, needing to catch his breath. The coffee wasn’t really helping, but it was something to do with himself other than ramble and shiver. His hands were shaking so much he was worried he was going to drop the cup off the edge of the cliff.

Grillby stayed mercifully quiet.

Sans waited until he was breathing normally again before he continued. He sighed to himself and sat down in the snow, one foot poking out over the ledge.

“But I guess…the world  _ didn’t _ end. So I  _ did _ get a chance to think about it all. And deal with it. And now I’m talking to you. And I realized--I don’t wanna pretend it didn’t happen. And I can’t rationalize it all away. And I can’t just excuse it. But…heh, god, maybe this really is pathetic of me. I just…I forgive you. Because I want to. So it’s a choice, instead of just a reaction. Because I feel like I actually thought about it, instead of just jumping to it. Actually thought about how I feel about it and about you. I saw how guilty you were. I know you’re sorry. I don’t think you’ll ever do it again. Like, it’s not like I’m ignoring a pattern--you’ve never hurt me before, and it was such a specific situation. So I think--I think I can be rational about it? Even if…heh. Even if it’s hard to be rational about you. I think…I-I think I’m…fuck, I just…I’m, I’m in love with you, Grillby.”

He couldn’t look at Grillby, but he felt the sudden rush of heat and saw the flicker of bright flames out of the corner of his eyesocket. He didn’t look up, face burning with shame, embarrassment and nerves.

“It’s probably f-fucked up to admit that after everything,” he said in a small voice. “And maybe I’m kidding myself and I’m just…too fucking needy and desperate to push you away when maybe I should. But I’m also…not saying it to just try and fix all of this, I’m--I’m saying it because I--wanted to tell you. I--I haven’t been fair. Everything last week, it wasn’t all your fault. I don’t talk, I’m never honest, and if I had been, maybe things wouldn’t have gone down as badly as they did. So--so if I’m gonna fix this for real, I think I gotta be more honest. I, I don’t expect anything to come of this, that’s not why I’m saying it. I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything. I just--wanted to say it out loud. Admit it to myself. And you. I’m--I’m sorry if that just makes things more complicated.”

Sans took a very shaky breath, still not looking at Grillby. He drained his coffee and clutched the cup in both hands. He waited. He wondered if Grillby would hate him for this--for making everything more difficult. If this meant it would be really, truly over.

So be it, then. At least Sans had managed to say one real thing to Grillby. At least he had said it out loud.

Grillby made a quiet sound. Like an exhale, or like a small fire catching.

“I,” he whispered, uncertainty in his voice. “It feels wrong to say it, after what I did to you. But I…love you too, Sans.”

The flood of warmth in Sans’s soul was undeniable. Sans laid a hand over his chest, sighing quietly. It should have been impossible for someone to say that to him. And yet there it was, so simple. Some part of him knew that Grillby had said it before, somewhere in the past. Did it feel like this every single time?

There was a crunch of snow as Grillby took a seat beside him. Not too close; still keeping his distance. But close enough that Sans could feel his heat.

“I appreciate everything you said,” Grillby went on, burning a little hotter now. “I--admit I was worried. That you wouldn’t take this seriously. That maybe you were forgiving me out of obligation. But…I think I understand. And--and I’m proud of you, Sans. For taking the time, and for being honest with me. I know how hard it is for you. Especially…considering that I broke your trust. In multiple ways.”

“You…you did,” Sans said, resisting the urge to scoot closer to him. “I don’t want to…deny that or sweep that under the rug. Or--no, that’s not really true. Part of me  _ really _ wants to ignore it, heh. I dunno if it’s just my conscience kicking in or what. I think, no matter what else ends up happening, you’re…you’re gonna have to earn my trust back. And--I’m gonna have to earn yours.”

“That’s fair,” Grillby said solemnly, finishing his own cup of coffee. He set the thermos aside and leaned back, braced on his hands. “That is very much fair.”

They both fell silent. Sans sighed and leaned back as well, planting a hand in the snow near Grillby’s. He peered out into the forest. There was a small glow among the trees. No doubt some teenagers making trouble.

The dread and guilt and uncertainty slowly faded from his soul. It wasn’t the end of the world. The Reset hadn’t happened. Grillby hadn’t immediately fled upon hearing the truth. And he hadn’t broken down, hearing Grillby tell him he loved him. That was something. That was more than something.

“So where does that leave us?” he asked softly. “Even if we love each other…can this even work? I have…there’s so much bullshit with me. And you have your family, your own shit to deal with…”

“My family isn’t much of an issue now,” Grillby said, resignation in his voice. “Someday Fuku will break away from her mother and then, who knows. Maybe she’ll still want me in her life. I’m not even sure I’ll see her again until that time. Plasma hasn’t spoken to me since she left. I might still be allowed to visit, but…perhaps not.”

“What about the rest of them? Is there any chance that you can--yanno. Make things right? I mean, if I’m not in the picture--”

Grillby was already shaking his head. “It’s much bigger than just you. It was--everything about me. I’m too stubborn, too contrary, too soft, too-- _ whimsical _ was the word my father used, the last time I spoke to him. And I did something that, in their eyes, was unforgivable.”

Sans hesitated, fingers drawing patterns in the snow.

“Plasma…told me a little about it,” he said. “She was trying to make me doubt you, I think. You never dig into my private shit, so I don’t like knowing private shit about you.”

“What did she say?”

“She--said you almost got married?”

“Ah.” Grillby’s face didn’t change, but there was a flicker of a different sort of heat from him--bitterness and anger. “I just wanted to make my parents happy. I thought I could simply--shut off the parts of me that they didn’t like. My mother set me up with another flame elemental. I tried to force myself to love him. Tried to look past his…flaws. Told myself it could be simple. We would have kids, and then I’d be free again. But I was in love with someone else. My fiance found out. He was--angry. Not about the infidelity, but about the humiliation. He…”

Grillby trailed off. Sans looked over at him. Grillby’s flames were completely still, and he wasn’t looking at anything. After a moment, Grillby blinked and shook his head.

“I ran. And it ruined everything. My father cut me off. My mother--I found out later that she tried to reach out to me, over and over, but my father prevented it. She died before I could speak to her. When I tried to go to her funeral, my sister was the one who turned me away. She blames me for our mother’s death. For all I know, she is right to do so.”

Grillby fell silent. Sans stared at him, eyesockets wide. He turned a little to better face him.

“God, Grillb. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago now. I’ve had a very long time to come to terms with it. And to come to terms with the fact that there’s no reconciling with my family. Fuku is the only one. Even if she can’t come to work here…it doesn’t erase the good memories we do have. All last week, I was so focused on myself. But…I think now, I’m mostly just sorry for Fuku. That she has no real escape from her mother. Aside from school, I suppose.”

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Sans said grimly. “I haven’t seen her or Sasha all week. Usually they’re pretty regular at the hotdog stand.”

He paused thoughtfully.

“You know…if she does come back someday, I could slip her your cell number. Sasha too, in case Plasma’s the type to check Fuku’s phone.”

A slow, genuine smile crept across Grillby’s face.

“I would appreciate that.”

Sans matched the smile, going quiet again for a minute.

“And…us?”

Grillby sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Sans. I…want to try again, but. What you want and what you need aren’t always the same thing.”

Sans’s grin faded into something more wry and bitter.

“Yeah. And I’m the needy one here.”

Grillby shook his head and turned enough to meet Sans’s gaze. “You’re not needy. Not the way you seem to think you are. I should have noticed it that night, how you reacted. It was just supposed to be…teasing. But it didn’t come out that way, did it? I shouldn’t have been so frustrated that you took it like that. I shouldn’t have made light of it.”

“It’s--I--I don’t know,” Sans said, embarrassed now that Grillby was asking. Talking about his feelings had been hard enough already, and this was even worse. This was a vulnerability. A weakness. Somehow even more personal than the fact that he was head-over-heels for Grillby.

“I-I don’t think you meant it to be something…mean or anything. I didn’t even--think I’d react that way. I just--I guess I took it like--like you were annoyed. Like…I was just this clingy little parasite. I-I dunno, I know I shouldn’t have taken it so seriously, but then Plasma said…”

“What?” A hard note came to Grillby’s voice. “What did she say?”

Sans looked away, flushing again. “She said I was--your type. That--that you always go for--for people who are--are, yanno. Damaged. Who need you to fix them.”

A puff of flame rose from Grillby’s head and dissipated into the air.

“She really is remarkably terrible.”

“Yeah, heh, she’s kind of the worst.”

“Indeed.”

“But…it is true, isn’t it. Cause it’s not just me. It’s how you treat everyone in that bar. You’re patient, understanding, but you can do the tough love thing too. You--you like helping people. You like being there for people.”

“I do.” Grillby looked off into the trees, gaze settling on the small flicker of light in the dark. “Flame elementals are…creatures of duality. Love and indifference. Creation and destruction. Fire can burn, or it can keep warm. I wanted to do the latter. I…I like being needed. I like--that you need me sometimes, Sans. When we’re in bed and you…”

Sans felt his face go crimson. There was another rush of heat from Grillby as well.

“But. It’s not really my place to talk about that right now, considering what I’ve done. I like when you need me in other ways. That you trusted me. That you had someone other than your brother to confide in. That you felt safe at the restaurant. I never found it annoying. Or. Well. I never found  _ that _ part of you annoying.”

Sans burst out laughing despite himself. He could feel a weight lifting from his soul, and it wasn’t until this moment that he realized just how heavy it had been. Not clingy. Not a burden. Not a parasite.

He was wanted. He was something that someone could want.

It felt like his soul was about to overflow.

“So it’s the puns, then?” he said, still chuckling. “That I never take anything seriously? The total inability to communicate anything genuine?”

“How about all of the above,” Grillby said dryly.

“Pfft. I’m getting  _ roasted  _ here _. _ Er--shit, uh. Sorry, too soon.”

“Too soon.”

“Seriously, though. I’m, uh. I’m glad I’m not--I’m glad you don’t think I’m--clingy or anything.”

“I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way. But, Sans, can I ask…why does it bother you so much? You’re always so…closed off, so afraid of letting anyone know that you might need  _ anything. _ Why?”

Sans could dodge. He would even be justified. It was getting late, and they’d already been talking so much. They could call it here, and Sans could say that they’d talk about it tomorrow, and then he could conveniently forget about it. They’d probably done this before. In some timeline or another, they’d probably talked about this, gotten into all of Sans’s sad, stupid bullshit, and maybe it had pushed Grillby away, or maybe it had dragged him further in. And then there would be a Reset, and Sans would go back to pretending until something happened, until something went wrong, and Grillby pressed just enough for Sans to crack open. It could have happened a thousand times by now.

But Sans owed him, here and now. After Grillby’s apology and everything he’d said about his family, all the painful, private things he’d divulged. Sans owed him.

He’d been quiet for awhile. He wondered if Grillby was expecting him to just not answer. To brush it off like always.

“I’ve been a burden my whole life,” he said softly. “To everyone around me. It’s just how it is. Even if people think otherwise…it’s just how it is.”

He felt his eyesockets go dark and let them close partway. Grillby was silent, until he realized that Sans wasn’t going to continue. Sans felt him lean a little closer.

“But it’s not,” he said simply. “You’re not a burden.”

“Heh.”

“You’re not, Sans.”

“That’s not how it felt all last week. That’s not how it felt when you called me needy. It felt like you were finally seeing the truth. I mean, let’s be real. If I hadn’t been in the way, maybe Plasma woulda never found her excuse.”

“She would have,” Grillby insisted. “I was kidding myself to think otherwise.”

“But I didn’t make it any easier on you. That’s what I mean. I never make things easier. I just make them harder. I get in people’s way. Heh. It actually comes in handy sometimes. But when it comes to…yanno. Relating to other people. If I let people in, then they’ll see it. Plasma clocked me, my whole  _ story, _ with one Check. And she mighta had the whole…rare species insight or whatever, but it’s the same with everyone. So if I never let people see how fucked up I really am, then they stay. At least until they see past it all. Or until they…get bored. Of all the faking. Of me getting in the way all the time.”

“Sans, I’m--I’m sorry I’ve made you feel this way. I had no idea how bad it was.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Sans said, giving him a shaky grin, eyesockets still blackened. “You didn’t know. Cause I never talk about it. So how could anyone blame you for it? I don’t, Grillb. You’re not responsible for how I am. And…maybe I’m ‘your type,’ but it’s also not your responsibility to fix me. You can’t fix me. Love doesn’t fix this. If it did, Papyrus woulda fixed me years and years ago. And I mean, what are you supposed to do? Just never tease me, never be sharp, always just police every little goddamn thing you say, so I don’t misinterpret and freak out? That’s fucked up. I’m not gonna do that to you.”

“Then we  _ both _ do better,” Grillby said. “I learn to control myself better. Be more careful about what I say. And you  _ talk. _ You  _ talk _ to me when something is wrong, instead of pretending everything is fine or running away. You stop assuming that I’m going to think you’re a burden for daring to speak up when you’re upset. You stop assuming that your own feelings are  _ worthless _ . Nothing about you is worthless to me, Sans. I don’t want to  _ fix _ you. I just…I just want to help.”

Grillby started to reach for Sans’s hand and then stopped, jerking backward like he was afraid he’d crossed a boundary. Sans closed the distance for him, catching Grillby’s hand in both of his own. Grillby went stiff, staring down at Sans’s hand, clearly still uncertain. Sans squeezed his hands a little, eyesockets fluttering closed for a moment.

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” Grillby whispered.

“You won’t,” Sans said, squeezing tighter. He felt Grillby’s hand relax. After another moment, Grillby’s fingers curled so that he could tangle them in Sans’s.

Sans grinned, trying to ignore the wetness on his face.

“It’s amazing that you love me,” he said, hating the way his voice shook. “It’s amazing. It must be  _ so fucking exhausting.” _

“It’s not.”

“I don’t--I don’t know if I can--hold myself to it. To--doing better. I--every time I’ve tried… It’s always just proof that I’m no good at this. It’s--I don’t even know if this is healthy. I don’t know what healthy  _ is.” _

“We hold each other to it, then,” Grillby said, bringing his other hand up to clasp around Sans’s. “I can push you a little harder. You can push me a little harder. And we take it slow. We take it carefully. You’re not the only one who’s afraid. You’re not the only one who thinks ugly things about yourself. I’m…scared to even touch you. I’m--terrified of hurting you again. I’m terrified of someday hurting you on purpose. I’m terrified that I could one day become my father, or my sister, or my fiance.”

Sans’s eyesockets widened, his eyelights finally flickering back to life.

“God--no, Grillb, you couldn’t. You’re good. You’re not like them. It was an accident. Look, think of how long I’ve known you. That’s the only time I’ve ever seen you lose control like that. You made one mistake, and I got hurt, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. You’d never hurt me on purpose. I believe that.”

“What if I lose control again?” Grillby’s flames shuddered, his shoulders hunching inward.

“I don’t think you will. But maybe…if we’re keeping each other honest or something, I could help you out.”

“Make you responsible for keeping me under control, talking me down? No. I refuse.”

“No, not like that. Just…maybe it’s more that you gotta  _ relax _ sometimes. Not be so wound up. Let off some steam. I can help with that, at least. I’m not good for much, but relaxing? I’m kinda an expert.”

Grillby didn’t respond right away, but his flames stilled a little, no longer shuddering and guttering like he was caught in a breeze. He ran a thumb over Sans’s knuckles, and Sans couldn’t help but indulge in the warmth. He’d missed this. He’d thought maybe that some part of him would still be afraid, would still flinch away, expecting to be burnt. But he wasn’t. He wanted to lean into it, press himself to Grillby and let himself melt into the warmth, like he always used to.

Grillby wouldn’t hurt him again. And if he did…Sans would stop him.

Maybe that was fucked up, but he didn’t care anymore.

“You’re…certain about this, Sans?” Grillby asked, running his thumb over Sans’s knuckles again. “You’re  _ certain _ that you want to try this again?”

“Yeah. I think I am,” Sans said, smiling down at the glowing hands wrapped around his own. “You said earlier that what someone wants doesn’t always match up with what they need. But maybe…we both need this in some way. We keep coming back to each other. Every time.”

“I’m…I’m not sure what you mean.”

Sans smiled up at him. “It’s nothing. Just that sometimes it seems like we’re caught in each other’s gravity. Yanno?”

“I don’t know much about gravity.”

“Eh. Doesn’t matter.” He squeezed Grillby’s hands. “I wanna try again. I wanna…see if it can work.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Grillby said. “Carefully. And Sans, please--if you ever feel uncomfortable, if you ever feel threatened, if I lose control--then leave. Keep yourself safe. Whatever you think of yourself, you never, ever deserve to be hurt by someone you love.”

“Okay,” Sans said, nodding. “I will. I…promise. Alright?”

“Alright,” Grillby said, and his whole form slumped a little as the last of the tension ran out of him. He made a warm, crackling sound, a fiery sigh of relief. Sans sank as well, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

It had been so long since he’d tried at anything. Soon it wouldn’t even matter. Soon the Reset would happen. But until then, maybe he and Grillby could wring a little more happiness out of this timeline. Maybe they’d have each other while it lasted.

“Hey, uh. I know we’re gonna take it slow, but can you…can you just…hold me for a bit?”

Grillby smiled, the uncertainty leaving him at last.

“Come here.”

Sans moved forward and pressed himself against Grillby, clinging to the front of his shirt. Grillby wrapped his arms around him. He held on loosely at first, then seemed to give in, tightening his grip and holding Sans close. Sans buried his face against Grillby’s shoulder, basking in the warmth. He hadn’t realized just how cold he was until now.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too, Sans,” Grillby said, holding him tighter. “Thank you for taking me back.”


End file.
